mm 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Gift  of 
Jack  M.    Forcey 


i 


1SBP 


PREFACE. 


CIVILIZATION  is  a  war — a  war  of  light  with  darkness; 
of  truth  with  falsehood ;  of  the  illuminated  intellect  and 
the  rectified  heart  with  the  barbarism  of  ignorance  and  the 
animalism  of  the  savage. 

The  present  work  portrays  a  single  phase  of  this  sublime 
conflict.  It  recounts  one  of  the  thousand  campaigns  of  this 
war.  It  is  an  attempt  to  condense  into  a  single  volume,  and 
give  an  adequate  literary  expression  to,  the  thrilling  history 
of  the  struggle  between  the  White  man  and  the  Red  man  for 
the  possession  of  this  continent.  It  is  also  intended  to  be  a 
memorial  to  a  race  of  heroes.  Other  countries  have  esteemed 
their  earliest  heroes  as  worthy  the  song  of  the  poet  and  the 
praise  of  the  historian.  With  us,  the  deeds  of  our  fathers 
are  as  yet  unsung,  and  their  very  names  are  fading  from  our 
memory. 

This  book  is  historical,  but  not  history.  That  is  to  say, 
it  is  a  truthful  account  of  real  events,  gathered  from  a  vast 
mass  of  authorities.  Yet  the  design  has  been  pictorial  rather 
than  geometrical.  The  author  has  sought  rather  to  paint  a 
picture  than  to  make  a  map.  In  the  execution  of  this  pur 
pose  he  has  been  nobly  seconded  by  the  PUBLISHERS,  who  have 
spared  neither  trouble  nor  expense  to  procure  for  him  rare 


n  PREFACE. 

and  valuable  authorities.  The  large  collections  of  the  public 
libraries  of  the  country  were  found  inadequate,  and  book 
sellers  from  Boston  to  San  Antonio  have  been  called  upon 
for  books  difficult  of  access. 

To  the  vast  number  of  painstaking  and  truthful  writers 
from  whom  the  author  has  thus  drawn  his  facts,  and  perchance 
even  the  expression  of  them,  an  obligation  exists  for  which 
no  adequate  return  can  be  made.  The  author  also  takes  this 
opportunity  to  express  his  deep  obligations  to  PROFESSOR  JOHN 
CLARK  RIDPATH,  by  whose  polished  pen  and  extensive  and 
accurate  acquaintance  with  American  history  many  a  defect  in 
this  book  has  been  generously  obviated.  A  similar  recognition 
is  due  to  HON.  HENRY  A.  RATTERMANN,  whose  unequaled  library 
of  rare  books  on  American  Pioneer  History, — especially  that 
part  relating  to  the  settlement  of  the  Ohio  Valley, — has  fur 
nished  valuable  data  for  this  volume,  without  which  much  that 
is  interesting  would  have  been  lost  to  these  pages. 

The  liberality  of  the  PUBLISHERS  has  extended  not  merely 
to  the  procurement  of  literary  materials,  but  has  also  enriched 
the  book  with  a  collection  of  artistic  engravings  every  way 
worthy  of  the  topic.  Supplemented  as  his  own  efforts  have 
•been  by  these  powerful  and  generous  aids,  it  is  not  without 
confidence  that  the  work  is  submitted  to  the  public. 

A.  L.  M. 

DEER  PARK,  MARYLAND,  Sept.,  1883. 


I  CONSENTS:! 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    LEGEND   OF    POWHATAN. 

Captain  John  Smith. — His  adventures  in  Turkey. — Three  single  combats  and 
as  many  victories.— Prisoner  of  a  princess. — Her  suspicious  brother. — Escape. — The 
Jamestown  Colony.— Smith,  sticking  in  a  quagmire,  is  captured  by  Indians.— Poca- 
hontas,  the  king's  daughter. — She  saves  Smith's  life  and  makes  a  pet  of  him. — 
Follies  of  the  colony.  —  Coronation  of  Powhatan.  —  Smith's  fight  with  the  big 
Indian. — Starvation. — A  meal  of  powdered  wife. — Betrayal  and  capture  of  Poca- 
hontas. — Rolfe  in  love. — The  marriage  and  death  of  the  Indian  princess. — Smith's 
hobbies. — He  dies  neglected  and  in  want, Pages  17-69 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE   TRIALS   OF   LA   SALLE. 

The  greatest  French  explorer. — His  saint-like  predecessor,  Marquette. — A  grave 
in  a  wilderness. — La  Salle's  ambition. — Life  in  the  fort. — Building  The  Griffin. — Up 
the  lakes. — Loss  of  The  Griffin. — La  Salle  journeys  on  foot  from  the  Illinois  to 
Montreal. — Bankruptcy  and  ruin. — Tonty's  six  gifts,  and  their  significance. — The 
second  attempt. — Down  the  Mississippi. — The  fort  on  "  Starved  Rock." — The  simple 
ton  of  Versailles. — French  re-enforcements. — Four  vessels  set  sail  from  France  for 
the  Delta  of  the  Mississippi. — Shipwreck  of  them  all. — Lost  in  a  Texan  wilder 
ness. — Suffering  and  treachery. — La  Salle  attempts  to  reach  the  Illinois. — His 
assassination, Pages  70-118 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   FATE   OF   PHILIP. 

The  Pilgrim  Fathers.— Difficulties  with  the  Indians.— A  hole  in  the  ice,  and  a 
corpse  in  the  hole.— King  Philip's  war.— Shot  on  the  way  from  church.— A  brave 
servant-girl. — Siege  of  a  cabin. — Burning  of  the  towns. — The  fight  at  Hadley. — 
Appearance  of  the  Angel  of  the  Lord. — The  great  swamp  fight. — Firing  of  the 
Indian  fort. — Massacre  of  the  savages. — King  Philip  and  Captain  Church. — Clos 
ing  struggle  of  the  two  great  antagonists.  —  King  Philip  killed. —  The  pleasures 

of  peace, Pages  121-145 

3 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

4 

THE   LION   AND   THE   LILIES. 

The  old  French  war. — Chopping  a  path  through  the  forest  for  the  British 
army. — A  lonely  defile. — Lurking  foes. — Ambuscade  and  massacre.— The  rout  of 
Braddock. — Ferocity  of  the  savages. — War  horrors. — Panic  of  the  pioneers.— Assas 
sination  of  the  missionaries. — Twelve  reapers  killed  in  a  field. — The  odor  of  burnt 
flesh. — One  Indian  takes  nineteen  scalps  in  a  single  day. — The  Wild  Hunter  of 
the  Juniata.  —  The  fall  of  Quebec. — The  British  Lion  supplants  the  Lilies  of 
France, ' Pages  146-173 

CHAPTER  V. 

ROGERS' s  RANGERS. 

Captain  Rogers. — His  fierce  scouts. — Their  exploits  on  Lake  George. — English 
scalps  worth  sixty  francs. — The  Rangers  on  skates  give  chase  to  nine  sleds  on  the 
ice. — A  fearful  race. — The  triumph  of  men  over  brutes. — Fort  William  Henry. — A 
debauch  on  Saint  Patrick's  Eve. — Saved  by  the  Rangers. — Burning  of  the  fort. — 
An  awful  battle. — Two-thirds  of  the  Rangers  killed. — Rogers's  leap. — Lost  in  a  wil 
derness  of  snow. — An  insane  guide. — The  St.  Francis  expedition. — A  two  hundred 
mile  march. — An  Indian  wedding  feast. — Destruction  of  the  village,  .  Pages  174-198 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   ADVENTURES   OF   THREE   CAPTIVES. 

Major  Robert  Stobo. — Held  as  a  hostage. — In  prison  as  a  spy. — Escape. — Recap 
ture. — Dungeon  and  chains. — Another  flight.— Down  the  St.  Lawrence. — Compan 
ions  in  misery.— Capture  of  a  vessel. — Liberty  and  life. — Colonel  James  Smith. — 
Captured  by  Indians. — Life  in  a  wigwam. — A  night  in  a  hollow  tree. — A  sweat- 
house. — Escape  and  capture  by  the  French. — The  Bard  family. — An  assault  on  a 
cabin. — Death  and  captivity. — Briers  in  bare  feet. — Mrs.  Bard  scratched  and  beaten 
by  the  squaws.— Her  release  purchased  by  her  husband,  ......  Pages  199-231 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   AMBITION    OF   PONTIAC. 

The  mighty  chieftain  of  the  Ottawas.— The  conspiracy.— Council  of  infernal 
peers. — The  plot  at  Detroit. — Warned  by  an  Indian  girl. —  Guns  hidden  under 
blankets. — Foiled. — Presqu'  Isle. — An  Indian  mine. — Fire  and  sword. — Surrender 
of  the  haggard  garrison.— Michillimackinac. — The  game  of  ball. — Success  of  the 
stratagem.— Butchery  of  the  garrison. — The  trader  Henry's  adventures. — Hidden  in 
a  garret. — Discovered. — A  friend  in  need.— Carried  away. — The  siege  of  Detroit. — 
A  vast  fire-ship.— A  midnight  sally.— Attacked  in  a  ravine.— Bloody  defeat.— The 
fight  around  Campan's  house. — Retreat  of  the  survivors. — Boquet's  expedition. — 
The  circular  fight.— Wreck  of  the  Lake  Erie  expedition.— The  Paxton  boys.— A 
panic  in  Philadelphia— Peace.— Pontiac's  death, Pages  232-298 


CONTENTS.  5 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

JOSEPH   BRANT   AND   THE    MOHAWKS. 

An  American  castle. — A  symmetrical  maiden. —  Sir  William  Johnson. — The 
Five  Nations. — A  terrible  wrestling  match. — Conquests  of  the  Iroquois. — The  Rev 
olution. — Brant  and  the  English  landlord. — A  gay  rider  in  the  dust. — Old  Fort 
Schuyler.— A  faithful  dog. — The  siege. — Battle  in  the  swamp. — Brant's  cruelties. — 
Massacre  of  three  hundred  whites. — Invasion  of  the  Indian  country. — An  ear  of 
corn  twenty-two  inches  long. — Burning  of  Ellis's  mills.— Ah  amour  of  a  Dutch 
trader.— Brant  in  old  age, Pages  299-360 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   ESCAPE   OF   TWO   BOYS   FROM   CHAMBLEE. 

Jacob  Sammons. — Going  for  beer. — The  flight  from  prison. — A  pleasant  woman 
and  a  jealous  husband. — Bitten  by  a  rattlesnake. — Frederick  Sammons. — Attacked 
by  pleurisy. — Fourteen  days  in  the  rain. — Recaptured. — Fetters  which  wear  the 
flesh  to  the  bone. — The  island  prison. — In  the  St.  Lawrence,  ....  Pages  361-368 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS. 

1777  on  the  frontiers. — An  attack  at  milking-time. — Cornstalk's  faithfulness  to 
the  whites  rewarded  with  assassination. — The  siege  of  Wheeling. — A  decoy. — Eleven 
lives  lost. — An  assault. — The  bravery  of  the  women. — A  girlish  heroine. — The  Fore 
man  massacre. — An  old  scout. — A  find  in  a  forest. — Death, Pages  369-387 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   CONFLICT   IN   THE   OHIO    VALLEY. 

Transformation. — The  escape  of  McConnel. — Capture. — Sleeping  in  bonds. — 
The  knife. — Killing  his  captors.— A  race  for  life. — A  fight  in  a  fog. — Old  Morgan's 
strength.— Biting  off  a  finger.— An  American  Meg  Merrilles.— The  black  horse.— 
Through  the  wilderness.— The  great  fight  of  Poe  and  Big  Foot.— Five  Kentucky 
boys  and  their  pluck.  —  Drawing  the  claret.  —  The  boys  kill  their  keepers  and 
^escape. — A  strange  story. — The  first  Chickamauga.— The  attack  on  Widow  Scraggs's 
cabin. — "Keep  the  door  shut!" — Driven  out  by  the  flames. — Mrs.  Merrill's  brav 
ery.— The  sufferings  of  Massy  Harbison.— One  hundred  and  fifty  thorns  in  her  feet 
and  legs.— The  blood  avenger.— The  wizard's  punishment, Pages  388-442 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    EXPLOITS   OF   WETZEL. 

| 

The  Wetzel  family. — A  tomahawk  in  a  brain. — A  gleam  of  romance.— Turkeys 
which  turned  out  to  be  Indians. — Lewis  Wetzel. — Lying  in  wait. — The  tragedy. — 
Cornered  in  a  shanty.— In  prison. — "  I  have  lived  like  a  man,  let  me  die  like  one." — 
Liberty.— Love. — Two  years  in  a  Spanish  dungeon, Pages  443-463 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEE  XIII. 

THE   COURAGE   OF   KENTON. 

Simon  Kenton.— The  tortures  of  love.— Flight  to  the  wilderness.— Stealing 
horses  from  the  Indians. — Unable  to  ford  the  Ohio. — Captured  and  whipped. — 
Eight  times  exposed  to  the  gauntlet. — Three  times  tied  to  the  stake. — The  burning- 
glass  story.— Old  age  and  disappointment, Pages  464-479 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

BRADY   THE   BACKWOODSMAN. 

Father  and  son. — A  rum  experience. — Talking  by  the  roadside. — Three  rifle 
shots.  —  Scalped.  —  Sam  Brady.  —  A  dull  Dutchman.  —  Touching  elbows.  —  Brady's 
Leap, Pages  480-489 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   DAYS   OF   DANIEL  BOONE. 

Westward,  ho ! — A  ruined  cabin. — Devoured  by  wolves. — A  flask  of  whisky. — 
Thirsty  squaws. — Boone's  family. — Capture  of  the  girls. — The  rescuing  party. — An 
uplifted  tomahawk. — Haggard  with  hunger. — Siege  of  Boonesborough. — Tracked  by 
a  blood-hound. — Boone  swallows  a  butcher-knife. — Frightened  women. — Bringing  in 
the  water.— The  terrible  battle  of  Blue  Licks.— Later  years, Pages  490-51& 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

GNADENHUTTEN   AND   THE   MORAVIAN   MASSACRE. 

The  missionaries. — Picturesque  Bethlehem. — A  noted  inn.— Venison,  partridges^ 
and  poultry. — Wine  for  the  wicked. — The  Moravian  Indians. — No  rest  for  the 
weary.  —  Gnadenhutten.  —  Driven  from  home.  —  Hunger  and  hardship.  —  Savage 
Christians. — The  awful  massacre. — The  bloody  mallet. — Ninety  crushed  skulls. — 
Defeat, Pages  517-541 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   CRUELTIES  OF   GIRTY. 

The  renegade.— Frightening  the  Moravians.— The  beautiful  Katy  Malot^-The 
attack  on  Dunlap's  Station. — Relief  party  from  Cincinnati. — Blind,  drunken,  and 
wretched, Pages  542-55a 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   DOOM    OF    CRAWFORD. 

The  Sandusky  expedition. — The  army  on  the  march. — A  bad  omen. — A  deserted 
village.— Indian  spies.— The  enemy  in  sight.— The  first  day's  battle.— A  hat  for  a 


CONTENTS.  1 

water-bucket.— The  second  day.— The  attack  at  nightfall.— Rout  of  the  whites  in 
the  grove. — The  fatal  cranberry  marsh. — The  retreat. — Shot  on  the  river  bank. — 
The  poisoned  kettle. — A  Russian  noble. — Slover  and  Paull. — Painted  black. — The 
gauntlet. — Tossed  to  the  dogs. — Sentenced  to  be  burnt  alive. — Interruption  by  a 
thunder-storm. — Miraculous  escape.— Naked  and  bleeding. — Seventy-five  miles  in 
eleven  hours. — Dr.  Knight. — The  foolish  Tutelu. — His  lies. — William  Crawford. — 
Stake  and  flames. — "For  God's  sake,  shoot  me  through  the  heart!" — The  spirit 
released, Pages  554-592 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  TROUBLES    OF   THE    TENNESSEEANS. 

The  massacre  of  Fort  Louden. — A  hollow  tree  for  a  home. — Half  of  a  knife. — 
The  emigrants. — Small-pox  and  Indians. — Rocks  in  the  channel. — A  child  born 
during  a  battle. — Colonel  Brown's  family. — Treachery  of  the  Indians. — A  head  cut 
half  off. — Blood!  Blood!  Blood! — Crushing  the  Indian  power. — A  squaw's  escape 
by  swimming, Pages  593-612 

CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   SPENCER. 

The  4th  of  July. — Captured. — Encounter  with  the  wild-cat. — Fight  with  an 
Indian  boy. — Liberation, Pages  613-617 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   ROMANCE   OF   RED    EAGLE. 

The  Emperor  Alexander. — Red  Eagle  as  a  boy. — A  rich  man's  home. — The 
idol  of  the  people.— Tecumseh.— A  false  prophet.— Red  Eagle's  sweetheart.— Love 
and  War. — The  massacre  of  Fort  Mims.— Card  playing  and  drinking  among  the 
garrison. — The  growing  sand-heap. — The  attack. — The  hopeless  defense. — "To  the 
bastion!" — Red  Eagle's  nobility. — Searching  the  heaps  of  corpses.  —  The  dog 
charge. — Jackson's  campaigns. — Dale's  famous  canoe  fight. — Mutinies. — The  battle 
of  the  Horseshoe.— Surrender  of  Red  Eagle, Pages  618-648 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  TRUE   STORY    OF   THE   PROPHET. 

The  change  of  name. — Mythical  ancestry. — The  good  elder  brother. — White 
scoundrels. — Red  villains. — The  great  conspiracy. — The  rogue  of  a  prophet.— His 
miracles. — The  sun  darkened. — Tecumseh's  love  for  his  sister. — His  ambition. — The 
night  before  the  battle.  —  Tippecanoe.  —  Harrison's  victory.  —  Tecumseh's  rage.— 
Battle  of  the  Thames.— Who  killed  Tecumseh? Pages  649-683 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   SORROWS   OF   THE   SEMINOLES. 

The  Seminole's  curse. — Blood-money. — Exile  or  war. — Massacred  among  the 
Palmetto  trees. — Reign  of  terror  on  the  plantations. — The  "  House  of  Blood." — 
Scalped  in  a  parlor. — The  tragedy  in  the  flower  garden. — Thirty  skeletons  in  a 
row. — Fever,  flood,  and  famine. — The  conspirators  in  the  chief's  wigwam. — Knives 
glistening  in  the  starlight. — The  flight. — Osceola  betrayed. — "I  feel  choked;  you 
must  talk." — The  caged  eagle. — The  squeeze  through  the  embrasure. — A  fifty-foot 
leap. — Osceola's  dungeon. — Despair. — Death. — Bloodhounds  used  in  the  war. — Killed 
in  a  cupalo. — Horrors  of  the  Florida  war. — Coacoochee's  capture. — The  departure 
into  perpetual  exile, Pages  684-723 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

BLACK    HAWK'S   HUMILIATION. 

First  chapter  of  an  Indian  Genesis. — Battles  of  the  gods. — Tricked  into  a  treaty. — 
Willing  to  die  for  his  brother.—"  Move."—  Who  is  Black  Hawk  ?— Stealing  roast- 
ing-ears  from  one's  own  fields. — A  dog  banquet. — A  squaw  swims  the  Mississippi, 
carrying  her  child  in  her  teeth. — "  Paint  me  as  I  am." — The  princely  Keokuk — 
Gall  and  wormwood, Pages  724-739 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   HISTORY   OF   KIT   CARSON. 

The  Carson  family. — An  old  mare  for  supper. — Monsieur  Le  Beaver.— A  tail 
for  a  shovel. — Political  and  domestic  life  of  the  smart  animal. — The  great  Kit. — The 
trappers. — Winter  life  in  a  trappers'  tent. — The  ace  of  trumps. — A  fight  in  the 
snow. — Two  men  in  a  fort. — The  dash  for  life. — Twelve  hundred  dollar's  worth  of 
horses  stolen. — Carson's  pursuit.— Shot  through  the  heart. — Terrible  fight  with 
grizzly  bears. — The  summer  rendezvous. — The  duel  with  the  bully. — The  "sur 
round." — Othello's  occupation  gone. — The  angry  trader. — The  Kansas  border  war. — 
The  deserted  home. — Fremont  and  Kit. — Through  the  Mexican  lines. — Bleeding 
feet.  —  The  runner.  —  General  Carson.  —  Last  sickness.  —  "  Doctor,  compadre, 
adios!". Pages  740-793 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    TRAGEDY    OF   MINNESOTA. 

'The  Sioux.  —  Blanket  Indians  vs.  Pantaloon  Indians.  — The  riot  at  Yellow 
Medicine.— Little  Crow's  frightful  conspiracy.— No  suspicions  aroused.— August  17, 
1862. — The  massacre  begins. — A  headless  corpse. — Firing  of  the  government  build 
ings.— Panic  of  the  whites.— Slaughter  everywhere.— Sufferings  of  the  flying  refu 
gees.— Depopulation  of  the  country.— A  charnal  house.—"  For  God's  sake,  get  your 
family,  and  fly !"— No  mercy  for  women  or  children.— Boys  brained  while  playing 


* 


CONTENTS.  9 

marbles. — Women  butchered  while  making  bread. — The  house  of  children. — A  night 
of  agony. — Flight  of  the  little  sufferers. — Six  weeks  in  the  woods. — Snakes  and  in 
sanity.— The  battle  at  New  Ulm.— The  scene  at  St.  Peter.— The  flying  multitude.— 
Arrival  of  troops. — Execution  of  the  conspirators. — Two  thousand  persons  massa 
cred  and  forty  thousand  rendered  homeless, Pages  794-835 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

JOSEPH    AND    HIS   BRETHREN. 

The  two  problems. — The  pierced  noses. — A  wild  song. — The  council  at  Lap- 
wai.— The  killing  begun.—"  Hurry  up ;  hurry !"— A  knife  in  a  neck.— The  soldiers.— 
Over  the  mountains. — White  Bird  Canon. — The  slaughter  of  the  whites. — A  de 
serted  inn. — The  pursuit  of  Joseph. — "Indians!  0  God!" — Across  the  ranges. — 
The  hog-back. —  The  battle. —  Joseph  escapes  once  more. —  In  the  Yellowstone 
region.— Caught  at  last ! Pages  836-860 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

HEROES  OF   THE   LONE   STAR   STATE. 

NELSON  LEE,  THE  TEXAN  RANGER. — A  dollar  a  day  to  be  shot  at. — Buckskin  vs. 
Broadcloth. — The  Ranger's  Horse. — A  "greeny's"  first  taste.— Seven  hundred  Co- 
manches. — Tomahawks  rising  and  falling. — A  bullet  in  a  bridle  arm. — Bitten  by  a 
rattlesnake. — The  noble  Black  Prince. — The  cunning  ranchero. — His  successful  strat 
agem. — On  to  the  Rio  Grande. — The  surrender  of  the  Rangers  to  Mexicans. — Lee 
escapes  through  a  garden. — In  the  dark  river. — Steep  and  slippery  banks. — Lee  forces 
two  Mexicans  to  guide  him. — The  purchase  of  the  watch. — The  night  attack. — Won 
ders  of  the  watch. — A  god  or  a  devil — which? — The  awful  torture. — An  Indian 
sweetheart. — In  the  bushes. — Recaptured. — Lamed  for  life. — The  Sleek  Otter. — 
Lee  kills  Rolling  Thunder,  and  escapes, Pages  861-881 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

HEROES   OF   THE   LONE   STAR   STATE. — CONTINUED. 

BIG  FOOT  WALLACE.  —The  greatest  living  scout. — Smeared  with  blood. — "  If  I 
was  your  mammy,  young  man." — Fat  pecans. — The  camp. — Big  Foot  takes  a  stroll. — 
Indians. — The  race  for  life  up  the  canon. — Wallace  kills  his  pursuer. — Lost. — A  snug 
cave. — The  cur  "  Comanche." — The  sprained  ankle. — Weary  weeks  in  the  wilder 
ness. — An  old  squaw  with  a  face  as  wrinkled  as  a  walnut. — Captured,  condemned, 
and  reprieved.— Black  Wolfs  legend.— The  spectral  "Halloo-o-o!"— An  Indian  Rip 
Van  Winkle.— The  ghost.— Attacked  by  wolves.— All  night  in  danger.— The  fight 
with  the  Indian.— "Mr.  Author."— The  adventures  of  a  greenhorn.— The  rattlesnake 
joke. — A  gulp  of  pepper-sauce. — Big  Foot  as  he  is.— Bowie's  fight. — The  treasure 
hunters.— The  fatal  battle, Pages  882-915 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

HEROES  OF   THE   LONE   STAR   STATE. — CONTINUED. 

DAVID  CROCKETT. — The  wretched  home. — Dodging  a  drunken  father. — A  child 
alone  in  a  wilderness. — Twice  married. — Walks  fifty  miles  in  one  day. — The  flames 
of  fever. — Frontier  justice. — The  candidate. — In  the  Legislature. — Moves  west. — 
The  bear  hunt  in  the  storm. — The  coat  with  two  pockets. — "  Half  horse,  half  alli 
gator." — Elected  to  Congress,  when  he  could  neither  read  nor  write. — The  dinner 
with  the  President.— Three  terms.— Then  defeat.— To  Texas.— The  siege  of  the 
Alamo. — Crockett  bravely  meets  death. — THE  FIGHTING  PARSON. — A  young  team 
ster. — A  successful  preacher. — In  the  confederate  army. — Attacked  in  the  canon. — 
Peaceful  days, Pages  916-936 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

WAYNE'S  SCOUTS. 

Treaties  with  the  Indians.— Connecticut  and  Virginia  cede  their  claims. — North 
western  Territory  organized.  —  Marietta  settled. — Territorial  government  inaugu 
rated. — Exploit  of  Louisa  St.  Clair. — Cincinnati  founded. — Settlements  in  Symme's 
purohase. — Cincinnati  takes  precedence. — Why. — Thrilling  adventure  of  two  spies. — 
Harmar's  and  St.  Glair's  defeats. — Wayne's  legion. — Captain  Wells,  Robert  and 
William  McClellan,  and  other  scouts. — Their  movements. — Wayne's  victory. — Treaty 
at  Greenville. — Sad  fate  of  Wells. — The  McClellans. — Counties  organized. — Primi 
tive  courts. — Ohio  admitted  as  a  State, Pages  937-979 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE   RED    MAN    OF   TO-DAY. 

Civilized  savages. — The  Plains  Indians. — The  sign  language. — Red  babies. — 
Girls  and  boys. — Candidates  for  warriorship. — Indian  love-making. — Mrs.  Squaw 
frequently  "goes  off  with  a  handsomer  man." — The  custom  of  "roping." — Life  in 
the  teepe. — Indian  cookery. — Gormandizing. — Fat  puppy. — "  Par  fleche." — Dressing 
buffalo  skins. — The  slaughter  of  the  buffalo. — Costume. — A  green  feather  and  a 
pair  of  hoop-skirts. — The  unhappy  Digger. — The  winter  camp. — Games  and  gam 
bling. —  Substitute  for  whisky. — Racing. — Victory  of  "the  sheep." — Songs  and 
dances. — The  medicine  dance. — Scalp  dance. — Indian  religion. — The  priest.— Self- 
tortures. — Burial  spots. — "  I  hope  the  good  God  will  give  us  the  white  man's  road." — 
Ideas  of  value. — A  buffalo  robe  for  a  lump  of  sugar. — Disease. — Signal  smokes. — 
The  famous  medicine  fight.  —  Breech-loaders.  —  The  frontiersmen. — The  Indian 
question.— Suggestions.— Farewell, Pages  980-1032 


INTRODUCTION. 


THE  PIONEER  was  a  rugged  seer 

As  he  crossed  the  Western  river, 
Where  the  Copper  Man  called  the  INDIAN 

Lay  hid  with  his  bow  and  quiver. 

As  for  the  pioneer,  his  days  are  numbered.  As  for  the 
Indian,  there  he  stands,  a  specter  on  the  horizon ! 

The  conflict  has  been  irrepressible.  There  could  be  no  com 
promise  ;  the  races  were  too  unlike.  The  Red  man  had  no  beauty 
that  our  spirits  could  desire  him.  The  verdict  of  civilization 
has  been,  that  his  room  is  better  than  his  company.  It  is  an 
edict  issued  from  the  court  of  Progress — that  ferocious  Titan 
who  strides  from  East  to  West — -that  the  Indian  shall  disappear, 
shall  be  remanded  to  the  past,  shall  evanish. 

In  those  great  movements  by  which  the  populations  of  the 
world  are  transformed,  History  is  blind,  cruel,  remorseless. 
She  is  the  least  sentimental  of  all  the  divinities.  She  neither 
smiles  at  human  happiness,  nor  weeps  at  human  sorrow;  she 
merely  attends  to  her  syllogism.  When  she  finds  a  tribe  of 
nomads  living  in  a  valley  adapted  to  the  cultivation  of  corn,  she 
sends  the  news  to  some  corn-raising  race,  and  leaves  the  rest  to 
cupidity  and  the  casuists. 

And  the  casuists  make  a  muck  of  the  whole  business.  They 
seek  a  design.  They  find  it  in  this — that  the  soil  is  intended 
for  those  who  will  cultivate  it.  They  fix  on  this  correlation. 
The  hint  of  nature  is,  that  the  clover-field  and  the  orchard  must 
take  the  place  of  the  brake  and  the  wilderness.  It  is  all  very 

11 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

beautiful.  The  designated  race  comes  in ;  and  the  gray  squirrel, 
after  gibing  at  the  business  for  a  season,  goes  over  the  horizon 
followed  by  a  bullet. 

But  how  about  the  other  side  of  the  question?  It  is  well 
for  the  supplanters — but  the  supplanted?  The  red  deer  is 
designed  for  the  cane-brake,  and  the  cane-brake  for  him.  Both 
are  designed  for  the  hunter.  Is  Nature  not  as  well  pleased  to 
be  tracked  by  a  buck  of  ten  spikes,  as  to  be  wounded  in  the 
breast  with  a  hoe  ? 

In  this  world  there  is  one  law:  the  weakest  goes  to  the  watt. 
Men  may  as  well  expect  a  weight  on  the  shorter  arm  of  a  lever 
to  lift  a  greater  weight  on  the  longer,  as  to  suppose  a  reversal 
of  this  law.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  a  science  of  Historical 
Physics,  which  it  is  time  for  thinkers  to  consider.  The  funda 
mental  maxim  in  the  dynamics  of  progress  is,  that  the  greater 
force  overcomes  the  less.  They  who  will,  may  complain  of  the 
result  and  try  to  explain  it. 

The  movement  of  civilization  westward,  from  Babylon  to 
Rome,  from  Rome  to  London,  from  London  to  San  Francisco, 
has  furnished  a  succession  of  eras  in  which  the  stronger,  more 
highly  developed  races,  have  flung  themselves  in  heavy  masses 
upon  the  aboriginal  populations.  The  latter  have  yielded,  have 
perished,  are  perishing.  In  Greece,  the  Hellenes  came  upon  the 
Pelasgians,  and  the  latter  were  either  exterminated  or  absorbed. 
Again,  in  Southern  Italy,  the  (Enotrians  were  overwhelmed  by 
the  aggressive  colonists  of  Magna  Grsecia.  The  Gaulish  and 
British  Celts  sank  into  the  earth  under  the  tremendous  pressure 
of  the  Roman  and  the  Saxon.  The  American  aborigines,  forced 
back  from  the  seaboard  through  the  passes  of  the  Alleghanies, 
are  swept  across  the  great  valley  of  the  Mississippi,  and  thrown 
up  like  pebbles  on  the  plains  of  the  West. 

In  the  great  march  which  has  thus  substituted  the  wheat- 
field  for  the  cane-brake,  and  made  the  White  man  the  extermi 
nator  of  the  Red  barbarian,  there  is  this  that  is  peculiar :  in 
America  the  work  has  been  done  by  a  class  of  men  unknown 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

in  Europe — THE  PIONEERS.  Europe  was  peopled  by  large  bodies 
of  men  moving  from  one  country  to  another.  In  many  regions 
the  antiquarian  finds  the  Age  of  Stone  suddenly  cut  off  by  the 
Age  of  Bronze,  without  any  intervening  Age  of  Copper.  This 
means  that  a  bronze-bearing  soldiery  overwhelmed  the  people 
of  the  Stone  Age  before  the  latter  had  developed  into  a  capa 
bility  of  working  the  metals.  The  Hellenes  came  from  the  east 
as  migrating  tribes.  The  original  peoples  of  the  peninsula  were 
extinguished  by  the  invaders.  The  Gaulish  nations  were  trod 
den  under  foot  by  Caesar's  armies.  The  followers  of  Hengist 
and  Horsa,  before  wrhom  the  Celts  of  Britain  perished,  were  an 
innumerable  horde.  Everywhere,  except  in  our  own  country, 
the  movement  has  been  en  masse.  But  in  America  the  work 
has  been  accomplished  by  a  different  process.  Here  we  have 
had  the  gradual  approach  of  civilization,  and  the  gradual  reces 
sion  of  barbarism.  Population  has  been  flung  westward  in  a 
spray,  which  has  fallen  far  out  beyond  the  actual  line  of  the 
column.  Hence  the  pioneers. 

It  is  surprising  that  no  State  of  the  great  sisterhood,  west 
of  the  influence  of  the  Atlantic  tides,  has  been  colonized.  Every 
commonwealth  has  been  peopled  by  the  scattered  scouts  of  prog 
ress — the  pioneers.  They  have  come  by  twos  and  threes.  The 
individual,  unable  longer  to  endure  the  hardships  of  civilization, 
has  moved  out  to  find  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  the  wil 
derness.  At  the  first  he  consisted  of  himself,  his  dog,  and  his 
gun.  A  little  later  he  consisted  of  himself,  several  dogs,  one 
wife,  and  many  children.  Afterwards  he  consisted  of  himself, 
with  the  concomitants  last  mentioned,  and  a  neighbor  of  pre 
cisely  the  same  definitions. 

We  have  thus  had  in  America  a  race  of  men,  sui  generis — 
the  pioneers — the  hardiest  breed  of  adventurers  that  ever  fore 
ran  the  columns  of  civilization.  They  belonged,  like  other 
heroes,  to  the  Epoch  of  the  Dawn.  The  Old  World  knew  them 
not.  They  are  our  own — or  were ;  for  the  pioneer  type  is  in 
process  of  extinction.  Like  the  red  tribes,  pressed  back  by 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

their  energies,  the  rugged  adventurers  who  made  ourselves  pos 
sible,  are  seen  only  in  the  glow  of  sun-down.  The  line  of  pio 
neer  life  has  swept  westward  from  the  Connecticut  to  the  Hud 
son;  from  the  Delaware  to  the  Ohio;  from  the  Ohio  to  the 
Wabash,  the  Wisconsin,  and  the  Illinois ;  from  the  Father  of 
Waters  to  the  Rockies  and  the  Plains.  In  a  few  more  years 
there  will  be  no  place  on  the  continent,  or  any  continent,  that 
can  properly  be  called  THE  WEST.  The  pioneer  has  always  lived 
in  the  West.  He  will  disappear  with  his  habitat,  and  never  be 
seen  more. 

The  pioneers  were  a  people  of  heroic  virtues — and  no  liter 
ature.  The  situation  forbade  it.  The  actual  life  of  the  men 
who  made  civilization  possible  in  the  larger  part  of  the  United 
States  was  remanded  at  their  death  to  tradition.  The  pioneer 
bard  starved.  The  pioneer  annalist  left  his'  note-book  to  his 
son,  who  lost  it  while  moving  further  west.  The  next  genera 
tion  repeated  the  story  of  frontier  life  as  it  had  been  received 
from  the  fathers.  A  few  wrote.  From  Canada  to  the  lagoons 
of  Louisiana  a  traditional  lore  gre.w  up  and  was  perpetuated. 
Then  came  books,  most  of  them  written  with  little  skill  and  no 
dramatic  quality,  often  garrulous,  sometimes  dull.  In  them, 
however,  were  portrayed  the  incidents  and  accidents  of  that 
daring  life  which  was  soon  to  sink  behind  the  horizon. 

A  few  of  these  frontier  books  were  written  by  the  actors ; 
others,  by  those  who  had  not  participated  in  the  scenes  described ; 
most,  by  persons  of  little  scholarship  or  wit.  Until  the  present 
time  few  works  on  pioneer  life  and  adventure  have  been  pro 
duced  which  have  exhibited  artistic  merit  and  literary  ability. 
The  flash  of  life  through  the  cumbrous  drama  has  been  obscured 
by  dull  conception,  coarse  diction,  ungainly  style,  and  unnatural 
arrangement.  It  is  important  at  the  present  epoch,  when  the 
sun  of  our  heroes'  fame  is  setting,  but  has  not  set,  that  a  true 
and  vivid  picture  should  be  preserved  of  the  life  which  they 
led,  and  the  deeds  which  they  performed. 

As  it  respects  this  preservation  for  posterity  of  the  annals 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

of  our  Pioneer  Age — the  story  of  our  great  adventurers  and 
heroes — -there  is  thus  presented  an  alternative  between  the  now 
and  the  never.  What  is  not  presently  accomplished  in  the  way 
of  an  authentic  record  of  the  daring  exploits  of  the  fathers  will 
never  be  accomplished  at  all.  It  is  a  question  of  immediate 
photography.  The  pioneer  may  still  be  sketched  ere  the  sun 
light  fades  into  darkness;  but  the  evening  cometh,  when  no 
instrument,  however  delicate  its  lenses,  can  supply  the  want 
of  a  living  subject  for  the  picture.  In  another  generation  the 
sketch  of  the  American  adventurer  will  be  but  the  reproduction 
of  a  wood-cut,  instead  of  a  photograph  from  nature.  Whoever 
by  genius  and  industry  contributes  to  fix  in  our  literature  an 
adequate  conception  of  the  lives  and  deeds  of  our  heroes,  will 
make  himself  a  favorite  of  the  present  and  a  friend  of  the 
coming  generation. 

Such  a  work  requires  the  skill  of  a  dramatist.  It  is  not 
enough  that  the  story  of  the  men,  "who  by  their  valor  and  war- 
craft  beat  back  the  savages  from  the  borders  of  civilization,  and 
gave  the  American  forests  to  the  plow  and  the  sickle,"  should 
be  told  even  passably  well ;  it  must  be  told  with  the  fervqr  and 
living  power  of  the  drama.  Shakespeare  is  now  recognized  as 
the  prince  of  historians.  If  we  would  study  the  story  of  the 
struggles  of  York  and  Lancaster,  we  shall  do  better  in  the  three 
Henrys  and  the  two  Richards  than  in  the  flat  and  lifeless  pages 
of  Hall  and  Hollinshed.  It  has  remained  for  our  times  to  dis 
cover  that  the  historical  imagination  is  better  than  the  histori 
cal  microscope.  The  former  discovers  men;  the  latter,  insects. 
The  former  composes  the  Drama  of  Life ;  the  latter,  the  Farce 
of  Particulars. 

The  present  work  is  a  series  of  dramas  in  prose.  It  gathers 
and  relates  the  exploits  of  our  national  heroes.  The  characters 
live  and  act.  The  material  is  gathered  from  the  wild,  but 
not  extravagant,  annals  of  frontier  life.  Every  scene  in  this 
book  is  a  true  photograph  from  Man  and  Nature.  The  inci 
dents  are  real.  They  are  sketched  with  a  dramatic  power 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

which  can  be  paralleled  in  no  other  book  devoted  to  the  romance 
and  tragedy  of  American  adventure.  The  author  has  precisely 
that  kind  of  fervor  which  is  requisite  to  make  alive  the  very 
pages  whereon  his  characters  are  marshaled  for  our  interest. 
The  book  conforms  emphatically  to  the  prime  conditions  of  nar 
rative  :  it  is  interesting  and  true.  The  interest  is  maintained 
by  the  vigor  and  enthusiasm  of  the  treatment;  the  truth  has 
been  elicited  by  a  careful  culling  and  comparison  of  the  various 
traditions,  which  are  thus  given  a  new  lease  of  life. 

The  book  is  a  work  of  art.  It  is  composed  with  a  skill 
worthy  of  the  highest  species  of  literary  eifort.  The  arrange 
ment  of  the  several  parts,  and  the  adaptation  of  style  to  sub 
ject,  show  on  the  part  of  the  author  a  rare  combination  of 
brilliant  fancy  and  artistic  taste.  Mr.  Mason  has  made  the 
happy  discovery  that  dullness  in  a  book  is  never  commended, 
except  in  the  columns  of  a  magazine  called  the  Owls  Own 
Quarterly. 

To  all  classes  of  people  THE  ROMANCE  AND  TKAGEDY  OF 
PIONEER  LIFE  will  recommend  itself.  The  book  will  be  read — 
which  is  an  important  consideration  in  the  premises.  The  Amer 
ican  boy  will  take  fire  as  he  turns  these  pages.  The  mild- 
eyed  youth  in  the  bubble-stage  of  sentiment  will  wonder  that 
such  things  could  be  and  not  o'ercome  the  actors.  He  who  has 
reached  the  zone  of  apathy  in  the  Middle  Age  of  Man  will 
find  in  these  thrilling  stories  of  the  life  that  is  setting  a-west 
food  to  revive  the  adventurous  spirit ;  and  the  nonagenarian  may 
chance  to  be  re-warmed  to  hear  again  so  graphically  related 
the  traditions  that  hovered  about  the  fountains  of  his  youth. 

.A  book  so  well  conceived  and  admirably  executed — so  vivid 
in  its  delineations  of  the  lives  and  deeds  of  our  national  heroes, 
and  so  picturesque  in  its  contrasts  and  surprises — can  hardly 
fail  of  a  hearty  reception  by  the  public. 

JOHN  CLARK  RIDPATH. 
ASBURY  UNIVERSITY,  SEPT.  1883. 


THE 

ROMANCE  AND  TRAGEDY 


OF 


PlONKKR    LlFK. 


CHAPTER! 

THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN. 

\HE  age  of  Elizabeth  was  an  age  of  wonders. 
The  extension  of  commerce  and  the  revival  of 
learning,  the  reformation  of  religion  and  the 
revolution  of  science,  the  rise  of  civil  liberty  and 
the  invention  of  negro  slavery,  the  theory  of 
the  planets,  the  proof  of  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  and  the  discoveries  in  the  New  World, 
all  combined,  at  once,  by  their  variety  and  oppo- 
giteness,  to  stimulate  and  astonish  the  minds  of  men.  It  was 
a  dozen  epochs  crowded  into  one.  The  wildest  romances  were 
seriously  believed,  and  the  soberest  facts  laughed  at  as  chimeras. 
Every  thing  which  was  simple  and  matter  of  fact  was  rejected. 
The  more  improbable  a  thing  was,  the  more  willingly  men  re 
ceived  it  as  truth.  At  such  a  time  the  stories  of  the  traveler 
found  a  ready  audience. 

Captain  John  Smith,  the  historian  of  Powhatan  and  Poca- 
hontas,  was  a  traveler  who  narrated  his  own  adventures.  As  a 
story-teller  he  was  a  success.  What  he  tells  us  of  Powhatan 
and  his  amiable  daughter,  is  told  as  an  aside  to  the  stirring 
drama  of  his  own  life.  Left  an  orphan,  in  England,  at  fifteen, 
but  with  competent  means,  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  trade,  while 
his  guardians  appropriated  his  fortune  to  themselves.  He  had 

read  books  of  romance  and  adventure  enough  to  inspire  him  to 
2  17 


18  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

run  away.  But  he  was  no  ordinary  boy.  He  rambled  around 
over  Europe,  meeting  with  various  adventures,  taking  part  in 
the  Continental  wars  until  the  peace  of  1598.  Being  nineteen 
years  old  and  eager  for  adventure,  he  enlisted  in  an  army  of 
mercenaries,  employed  in  the  war  of  the  Netherlands.  After  a 
year  or  two  of  hacking  at  his  fellow-men,  he  fell  in  with  three 
rogues  for  companions,  who  robbed  him  and  escaped.  One  of 
these  gallants  he  afterward  met,  and  ran  through  with  his  sword. 

Our  hero  next  appears  on  a  ship  bound  for  Italy.  Getting 
into  a  quarrel  with  the  passengers  over  religion  and  politics, 
they  settled  the  argument  by  pitching  him  overboard.  But 
"God  got  him  ashore  on  an  island."  He  was  picked  up  by  a 
trading  vessel,  the  Britaine,  which  seemed  to  have  no  particu 
lar  destination,  but  lingered  around  for  freight.  The  "freight" 
wanted  was  a  Venetian  merchant  vessel,  which  no  sooner  "  spoke  " 
than  the  Britaine  fired  a  broadside.  A  lively  fight  followed,  but 
the  merchant  surrendered  to  the  pirate.  Of  the  spoils,  Smith  got 
"five  hundred  sequins,  and  a  little  box  God  sent  him,  worth  as 
much  more."  His  acknowledgments  of  Providence  are  touching. 

Having  wandered  around  Italy  till  he  was  tired,  Smith 
went  to  Vienna,  and  enlisted  in  the  army  of  the  Emperor 
Rudolph,  in  the  war  against  the  Turks.  The  Turks  had  shut 
up  Lord  Ebersbraught  in  the  besieged  town  of  Olumpagh.  Smith 
had  invented  a  system  of  signals,  which  he  had  once  providen 
tially  explained  to  Ebersbraught.  Letters  from  A  to  L  were 
represented  by  one  torch  displayed  as  many  times  as  the  letter 
was  removed  from  A;  letters  from  M  to  Z  were  represented  by 
two  torches,  similarly  displayed.  Three  torches  signified  the  end 
of  a  word.  Going  upon  a  hill,  Smith  flashed  his  torches  to  the 
besieged,  signaling  that  they  would  attack  at  midnight  on  the 
east.  The  garrison  were  to  make  a  sortie  at  the  same  time.  On 
the  side  opposite  to  that  of  the  intended  attack,  Smith  set  up 
some  stakes  in  the  plain,  and  strung  them  with  long  lines  of 
powder  strings.  At  the  moment  of  the  attack  these  were  touched 
off,  resembling  the  flash  of  musketry,  and  the  Turks  prepared, 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  19 

in  force,  to  resist  the  attack  from  this  quarter.  Their  mistake 
was  discovered  too  late  to  prevent  the  rescue  of  the  garrison. 
From  this  time  on,  Smith  bore  the  rank  of  captain. 

Still  more  chivalric  are  his  performances  in  another  siege. 
During  the  slow  toil  of  the  besieging  Christians  in  making 
trenches  and  fortifications,  the  Turks  would  frequently  yell  at 
thern,  and  ridicule  their  work.  In  order  to  pass  away  the  time 
and  "delight  the  ladies,"  the  Turkish  bashaw  sent  a  challenge 
for  single  combat  with  any  Christian.  John  Smith,  aged  twenty- 
three,  accepted  it.  A  theater  was  built,  the  armies  drawn  up, 
and  the  bashaw  appeared  to  the  sound  of  music.  His  capar 
isoned  horse  was  led  by  two  janizaries,  and  his  lance  was  borne 
by  a  third.  On  his  shoulders  were  a  pair  of  silver  wings,  and 
his  costume  was  ornamented  with  jeweled  plumes.  "This  gor 
geous  being  Smith  did  not  keep  long  in  waiting.  Accompanied 
by  a  single  page,  he  took  position,  made  a  courteous  salute, 
charged  at  the  signal,  and,  before  the  bashaw  could  say  '  Jack 
Robinson,'  thrust  his  lance  through  the  sight  of  his  beaver, 
face,  head,  and  all,  threw  him  to  the  ground,  and  cut  off  his 
head."  A  friend  of  the  bashaw's  then  challenged  Smith.  The 
fight  was  with  pistols,  the  Englishman  winning  another  head. 
Smith  then  became  challenger.  The  combat  was  long  and  doubt 
ful.  The  weapons  were  battle-axes.  Once  Smith  dropped  his, 
and  the  Turks  set  up  a  great  cheer,  but  "by  his  judgment  and 
dexterity  in  such  a  business,  by  God's  assistance,  having  drawn 
his  fanchion,  he  pierced  the  Turk  so  under  the  culets,  thorow 
backe  and  body." 

Smith  was  eventually  taken  prisoner,  but  only  to  meet  with 
a  new  adventure.  He  was  sent  to  be  the  slave  of  the  beautiful 
Charatza  Tragabigzanda  at  Constantinople.  He  was  by  no  means 
ill-favored,  and  the  tender  passion  soon  inflamed  the  heart  of  the 
young  mistress.  But  controlling  herself,  she  sent  him  away  to 
her  brother  Tymor,  "to  learn  the  language,  till  time  made  her 
mistress  of  herself."  Smith  thought  he  would,  ere  long,  become 
her  husband,  but  in  an  hour  after  his  arrival  the  brother  stripped 


20  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

him  naked,  forged  a  great  iron  ring  about  his  neck,  with  a  bent 
stick  attached  to  it,  and  set  him  about  the  vilest  tasks.  One  day 
Tymor  was  alone  with  him  in  a  field.  Mad  with  rage,  Smith 
sprang  on  him,  beat  out  his  brains,  dressed  himself  in  the  dead 
man's  clothes,  and  made  his  escape.  After  wandering  several 
days  in  a  desert,  he  found  a  kind-hearted  man,  who  knocked 
off  the  iron,  and  helped  him  to  a  ship  homeward  bound. 

Such  was  the  man  who,  in  1605,  returned  to  smoky,  pesti 
lential,  and  filthy  London,  a  city  without  sidewalks  or  lighted 
streets,  its  houses,  built  of  wood,  vilely  constructed  and  venti 
lated,  one-half  of  its  people  religious  bigots,  the  other  half 
abandoned  debauchees.  The  town  was  feverish  with  excitement 
over  the  stories  of  the  great  Virginia,  where  gold  was  as  com 
mon  as  iron,  where  copper  was  dipped  out  of  the  rivers  by  the 
bowl  full,  where  the  inhabitants  decked  out  in  pearls  as  large 
as  peas,  supplied  all  visitors  with  the  rarest  fish  and  game  and 
the  finest  fruits,  "  four  times  bigger  than  those  in  England."  So, 
in  1606,  when  a  charter  was  granted  for  a  colony  in  Virginia, 
notwithstanding  several  previous  ones  had  utterly  failed,  and 
left  no  monument  but  the  story  of  their  fate,  Smith  joined  the 
expedition.  Edward  Wingfield  was  president.  It  is  not  won 
derful  that  this  crowd  of  seventy-one  persons  soon  fell  to  quar 
reling.  They  were  from  the  slums  of  London — thieves,  plugs, 
cut-throats,  idlers — in  search,  not  of  glory,  but  of  a  country 
where  money  could  be  had  without  labor,  men,  as  Smith  said, 
"  more  fit  to  mar  a  state  than  to  make  one."  Their  settlement 
in  Virginia  was  called  Jamestown.  Here  they  had  a  rough  time. 

The  engraving  on  the  opposite  page  gives  a  faithful  view 
of  the  first  day's  work  in  the  wilderness.  It  was  a  struggle 
for  existence  rather  than  for  wealth.  Discipline  there  was 
none.  The  president  was  accused  of  keeping  the  choicest  stores 
for  himself.  The  men  would  not  work,  supplies  ran  low,  dis 
ease  and  famine  alike  attacked  the  unhappy  adventurers.  One 
night  they 'had  an  ugly  row,  in  which  all  took  part.  Their 
preacher,  Mr.  Hunt,  a  good  man,  pacified  them,  and  the  next 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  23 

day  the  crowd  partook  of  the  holy  communion.  All  these 
colonial  undertakings,  no  matter  how  abandoned  the  men,  wore 
a  cloak  of  religion.  The  ostensible  aim,  as  expressed  in  the 
Jamestown  charter  was,  "  by  the  grace  of  Almighty  God,  to 
propagate  the  Christian  religion  to  such  people  as  yet  live  in 
darkness  and  miserable  ignorance  of  all  true  knowledge,  and 
worship  of  God." 

But  the  quarrel  was  ever  breaking  out  anew.  Conspiracies 
to  kill  Smith,  depose  Wingfield,  and  escape  to  England  in  the 
pinnace  were  as  thick  as  hops.  Sometimes  one  faction  had 
the  upper  hand,  sometimes  the  other.  The  intelligent  directors, 
safe  at  home,  had  instructed  the  colonists  to  search  for  a  pas 
sage  to  the  North  Sea,  and  in  exploring  rivers,  when  they 
reached  a  fork  to  take  the  branch  leading  to  the  north-west  as 
most  likely  to  come  out  right.  In  obedience  to  this,  Captain 
Newport,  Smith,  and  others  shortly  ascended  the  river  which 
the  savages  called  POWHATAN.  The  country,  too,  bore  the  name, 
and  the  various  tribes  of  Indians,  whatever  else  they  called 
themselves,  were  continually  mentioning  the  same  mysterious 
word.  On  their  journey  the  explorers  were  hospitably  treated, 
receiving  presents  of  fruit,  game,  and  vegetables,  as  well  as  a 
roast  deer  and  baked  cakes.  They  reached  a  wigwam  village, 
governed  by  a  king,  the  name  of  town  and  ruler  both  being 
Powhatan.  This  chief  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  son  of  the 
great  Powhatan.  The  natives  made  elaborate  feasts,  and  in 
return  their  chief  was  entertained  on  the  ship,  where  the  En 
glish  pork  and  peas  and  the  liquors  quite  enraptured  him. 
When  the  latter  grew  suspicious  of  a  cross  erected  as  a  sign  of 
English  dominion,  Newport  told  him  the  arms  represented  Pow 
hatan  and  himself,  and  the  middle  their  united  league. 

On  the  morning  after  the  feast  on  shipboard,  the  noble  red 
man  found  himself  too  sick  to  get  up ;  no  doubt,  the  result 
of  the  hot  drinks  he  had  taken  to  so  kindly.  After  a  multi 
tude  of  feastings  from  other  chiefs,  the  explorers  returned  to  find 
that  the  colony  had  suffered  a  severe  attack  from  savages.  The 


24  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

president  was  cursed  to  his  face  for  his  failure  to  erect  fortifica 
tions.  He  was  accused  "  of  ingrissing  to  his  private  use  oat- 
meale,  sacke,  oyle,  aqua  vitse,  beef,  and  egges  ;"  while  the  others 
had  only  "  a  half  pint  of  wheat,  and  as  much  barley  boyled 
with  water  for  a  man  a  day,  and  this  being  fryed  some  twenty- 
six  weeks  in  the  ship's  hold,  contained  as  many  wormes  as 
graines."  As  a  result  of  the  quarrels,  Wingfield  was  deposed 
and  imprisoned.  Wingfield  denies  embezzling  the  delicacies. 
"  I  never  had  but  one  squirrel  roasted  !" 

The  colonists  hung  one  of  the  council,  and  Smith  himself 
came  near  it.  The  pious  frauds  had  a  church,  however,  with 
"  Common  Prayer  morning  and  evening,  every  day  two  sermons, 
with  an  Homily  on  Sundaies."  Smith  seems  to  have  been 
almost  alone  in  his  efforts  to  build  up  the  colony.  Every  one 
else  was  crazy  about  gold.  He  made  several  short  voyages, 
securing  small  amounts  of  corn  from  the  Indians,  which,  with 
the  swans,  geese,  and  ducks  on  the  rivers,  wild  "  pumpkins  and 
persimmons,"  made  life  quite  tolerable,  so  that  for  a  while  the 
"  tuftaffety  "  gentlemen  of  the  colony  quit  wanting  to  return  to 
England.  Necessity,  however,  again  drove  Smith  to  make  a 
more  extended  voyage  up  the  Chickahominy. 

They  proceeded  up  the  river  as  far  as  possible  with  the 
pinnace.  Then  Smith  took  two  of  the  crew,  Robinson  and 
Emry,  ashore  with  him,  where  two  Indians  were  hired  to  take 
them  further  in  a  canoe.  The  crowd  in  this  canoe  paddled  some 
twenty  miles.  For  convenience  in  getting  supper,  they  pulled 
ashore.  Leaving  one  Indian  and  the  two  Englishmen  to  "  boyle 
the  pott,"  Smith  took  the  other  Indian  with  him  to  look  around 
in  the  neighborhood  for  game.  He  had  gone  some  distance  when 
cries  and  yells  were  heard  from  the  canoe,  and  then  all  grew 
still.  Smith  rightly  conjectured  that  the  men  had  been  attacked 
and  killed.  Seizing  his  guide,  he  bound  him  fast  to  his  own 
arm  with  a  garter,  and  made  ready  to  fight.  No  Indians  were 
yet  in  sight,  but  an  arrow,  winged  by  a  hidden  hand,  struck 
Smith's  thigh.  Shortly  a  score  of  savages  jumped  from  their 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PO  WHAT  AN.  25 

cover.  Holding  his  terrified  guide  before  him  as  a  shield,  Smith 
began  a  retreat  to  the  boat.  His  pistol  he  fired  as  often  as  he 
could,  and  at  every  shot  the  savages  fled.  When  the  sound 
died  away  they  would  again  appear  and  discharge  their  arrows, 
but  the  unlucky  Indian  tied  to  Smith's  arm  protected  him  well. 
But  for  an  accident,  the  retreat  would  have  been  successful,  and 
the  story  of  Powhatan  never  have  been  set  afloat  in  the  current 
of  history.  While  walking  backwards,  intent  on  his  enemies, 
Smith  fell  into  a  quagmire,  both  his  guide  and  himself  sinking 
up  to  their  breasts.  To  escape  was  out  of  the  question.  Almost 
dead  with  the  cold,  Smith  threw  away  his  weapons.  The  Indians 
then  ran  to  him  and  pulled  him  out  of  the  mud,  built  a  fire, 
rubbed  his  benumbed  limbs,  and  took  him  before  their  king,  Ope- 
chancanough,  a  brother,  as  it  transpired,  of  the  great  Powhatan. 

Smith  was  a  man  of  resources.  He  drew  out  a  compass, 
which  greatly  interested  the  savage,  and  then  proceeded  to 
"  demonstrate  by  that  globe-like  Jewell,  the  roundness  of  the 
Earth  and  Skies  the  Spheare  of  the  Sunne,  Moone,  and  Starres, 
and  how  the  Sunne  did  chase  the  night  round  about  the  world 
continually ;  the  greatness  of  the  Land  and  See,  the  diversitie 
of  Nations,  varietie  of  Complexions,  and  how  we  are  to  them 
Antipodes."  These  wonderful  qualities  of  a  compass  have, 
probably,  never  been  made  use  of  by  any  but  our  own  Smith. 

The  secret  of  his  demonstration  is  lost  to  science.  At  any 
rate,  it  evidently  impressed  the  savage,  as  it  must  the  reader, 
with  the  ingenious  intellect  of  the  lecturer.  The  king  saw  his 
captive  was  an  extraordinary  man.  Smith  was  placed  under 
guard,  and  the  Indians  formed  in  procession  to  conduct  him  to 
Orapaka,  a  "  Town  and  Seat  much  frequented  by  Powhatan 
and  the  Imperial  Family."  The  king  walked  first,  followed  by 
poor  Smith,  held  by  three  lusty  savages.  On  either  side  walked 
a  file  of  six  more,  with  their  arrows  notched.  The  remainder 
followed  in  single  file.  The  village  celebrated  the  strange  cap 
ture  with  games,  dances,  and  feastings.  Smith  was  placed  in  a 
long  house,  with  forty  savages  for  a  guard.  For  supper  he  had 


26  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  quarter  of  venison  and  ten  pounds  of  bread.  Each  morning 
three  women  brought  him  three  great  platters  of  fine  bread  and 
more  venison  than  a  dozen  men  could  devour.  In  spite  of  the 
plenty,  Smith's  appetite  was  poor,  as  he  thought  they  fed  him 
highly  in  order  to  eat  him.  His  captors  were  preparing  to 
attack  Jamestown,  and  Smith  exerted  himself  to  explain  the 
terrible  cannon,  the  mines  with  which  the  fort  was,  he  said, 
surrounded,  and  the  certain  failure  which  would  result  from  an 
attack.  To  prove  it,  and  to  procure  some  presents  for  the 
Indians,  he  asked  the  king  to  send  messengers  to  the  fort.  This 
request  was  granted.  Three  naked  savages  set  out  through  the 
snow  and  ice  of  winter  on  the  trip.  Smith  took  care  to  send  a 
letter,  scratched  on  some  bark,  telling  the  colonists  that  he  was 
safe,  and  how  to  both  treat  the  messengers  well,  yet  to  frighten 
them  with  the  cannon,  and  to  send  him  certain  trinkets.  When 
the  messengers  returned,  great  was  the  astonishment  of  the 
village  that  Smith  had  been  able  to  talk  so  far  to  his  friends, 
and  that  the  messengers  had  brought  what  he  predicted  they 
would  bring. 

After  many  days  of  delay  and  ceremony,  the  Indians  decided 
to  take  Smith  before  their  emperor,  Powhatan,  the  Indian  Caesar, 
who  had  conquered  the  entire  region,  to  whom  innumerable 
chiefs  and  tribes  were  subject.  Such  was  the  extent  of  his 
name  that  the  English,  understanding  little  of  the  language  but 
hearing  the  word  often  repeated,  by  turns  regarded  it  as  we 
have  seen,  as  the  name  of  a  river,  of  the  country,  of  the  people, 
of  a  town,  and  of  the  chief  whom  they  met  in  their  first 
voyage.  This  man  had  extended  his  dominions  till  they  were 
many  times  the  size  of  his  original  inheritance.  The  hereditary 
chiefs  or  "  kings  "  of  the  subject  tribes  were  permitted  to  rule 
their  own  tribes  as  before  the  conquest,  and  their  local  laws  and 
customs  were  not  interfered  with,  on  condition  of  their  paying 
annual  tribute  to  Powhatan  of  "  Skins,  Beades,  Copper,  Pearl, 
Deare,  Turkies,  wild  Beastes,  and  Corn,"  a  system  of  govern 
ment  strangely  similar  to  that  of  the  Roman  Empire.  His  subjects 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  27 

regarded  him  as  half  man  and  half  God,  a  rather  intimate  union 
of  church  and  state. 

When  the  dauntless  Smith  was  presented  to  this  important 
personage,  he  seemed  about  sixty  years  old,  his  hair  was  gray, 
his  figure  tall  and  majestic.  He  was  reclining  at  the  end  of  a 
long  apartment,  on  a  chair  or  couch  of  state,  covered  with  great 
robes  of  furs,  with  a  coronet  of  immense,  gayly  colored  plumes 
on  his  head.  At  his  head  and  feet  sat  two  shapely  young 
Indian  girls,  in  scanty  attire,  his  youngest  and  favorite  wives. 
Behind  him  were  grouped  the  rest  of  his  wives,  adorned  with 
beads  and  decorated  with  the  most  gaudy  paints.  Around  the 
room  were  arranged  fifty  of  the  tallest  warriors  in  his  domin 
ions.  This  "  palace  guard  "  was  increased  to  two  hundred  from 
this  time  on  account  of  the  English.  He  is  said  to  have  lived 
"  in  great  barbaric  state  and  magnificence."  At  night  a  sentinel 
was  posted  on  each  corner  of  the  house,who  was  required  at  cer 
tain  intervals  to  give  a  signal  to  the  guard  in  the  house.  If  he 
slept  or  omitted  the  signal  he  received  terrible  punishment. 
Powhatan  had  a  large  number  of  towns  or  seats  in  which  he, 
from  time  to  time,  made  his  residence,  according  to  the  season 
or  the  character  of  the  game  which  each  place  afforded. 

On  Smith's  entrance  into  the  dusky  emperor's  hall  of  state, 
a  terrific  shout  was  set  up.  The  Queen  of  Appomattox  (a  name 
now  familiar  to  every  American),  brought  a  copper  basin  of 
water,  while  her  companion  attended  with  a  bunch  of  feathers 
on  which  to  dry  Smith's  hands.  The  emperor,  having  assured 
himself  that  Smith's  hands  were  clean,  proceeded  to  ask  him 
innumerable  questions  as  to  where  he  was  from,  where  he  was 
going,  what  brought  the  whites  to  his  kingdom,  what  were  their 
intentions,  what  kind  of  a  country  they  lived  in,  and  how  many 
warriors  they  had.  No  doubt,  the  slayer  of  three  Turkish 
bashaws,  and  the  pet  of  the  princess,  Tragabigzanda,  was  equal 
to  his  opportunities.  It  is  possible  that  the  old  savage  regarded 
him  as  a  liar,  for  after  his  questionings  were  over,  Smith  says, 
"a  long  consultation  was  held,  but  the  conclusion  was,  two 


28  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

great  stones  were  brought  before  Powhatan;  then  as  many 
savages  as  could,  layd  hands  on  him,  dragged  him  to  them,  and 
theron  laid  his  head,"  preparatory  to  beating  out  his  precious 
brains  with  their  war-clubs.  By  lucky  accident  Smith  escaped 
the  doom  through  the  famous  intercession  of  Pocahontas,  "  the 
king's  dearest  daughter,  whom  no  entreaty  could  prevaile,  but 
gat  his  head  in  her  arms,  and  laid  her  own  upon  his  to  save 
him  from  death,"  an  incident  which  has  been  expanded,  moral 
ized  upon,  and  applauded  in  turn  by  a  hundred  historians. 

No  doubt  poor  Smith  received  the  caresses  of  the  Indian 
maiden  with  a  sensation  rarely  the  lot  of  mortals  to  enjoy,  for 
the  stern  old  emperor  looked  at  the  scene  for  a  moment,  mut 
tered  a  few  words  in  his  strange  tongue,  and,  with  his  own  hand 
lifted  the  girl  and  Smith  from  the  ground.  Smith  was  still  doubt 
ful  of  his  fate  for  a  day  or  two.  During  this  time  he  busied 
himself  carving  wooden  toys  for  Pocahontas,  who  had  saved  him 
by  her  intercession.  These  filled  the  childish  hearts  of  herself 
and  her  companions  with  delight.  While  making  himself  pop 
ular  with  the  young  girls,  Smith  noticed  with  satisfaction  that 
the  chiefs  still  admired  and  wondered  at  the  compass  as  much 
as  ever.  In  the  picture  on  the  opposite  page  the  wily  English 
man  is  presenting  Pocahontas  with  a  wooden  doll,  which  he  has 
just  manufactured. 

One  day,  old  Powhatan  laid  aside  his  dignity,  as  most  kings 
do  at  times,  and  disguising  himself  in  the  most  horrible  manner, 
with  two  hundred  others,  "  as  blacke  as  himselfe,"  hid  behind  a 
curtain  in  a  large  house,  to  which  Smith  was  presently  brought. 
He  sat  down  by  the  fire,  thinking  the  apartment  otherwise  unoc 
cupied,  when  with  unearthly  shrieks  and  a  "hellishe  noise,"  the 
savages  jumped  from  their  hiding-place,  brandishing  weapons, 
and  making  horrible  contortions  as  they  circled  around  him. 
He  supposed  his  end  was  at  hand.  The  affair  was  only  a  joke, 
though  he  was  well-nigh  dead  with  apprehension.  There  are 
still  savages,  white  enough,  who  enjoy  such  jokes.  Powhatan 
explained  the  matter  with  many  grins,  furnished  him  with 


CAPTAIN  SMITH  AMUSES  POCAHONTAS  WITH  TOYS. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  31 

guides,  and  sent  him  back  to  Jamestown.  Smith  promised  to 
send  his  liberator  "two  gunnes  and  a  gryndestone."  This 
promise  he  fulfilled  by  offering  his  guides  two  culverins  and  a 
mill-stone,  which  they  could  not  possibly  transport.  He  took 
care  both  to  frighten  by  firing  the  culverins  and  to  pacify  them 
with  many  presents  for  Powhatan  and  his  wives. 

Smith's  life,  however,  was  scarcely  safer  among  the  ruffians 
at  the  fort  than  among  the  savages.  On  the  day  of  his  return, 
his  enemies,  headed  by  Ratcliffe,  the  president,  arrested  him 
on  the  charge  of  murdering  his  two  companions,  Robinson  and 
Emry,  found  him  guilty,  and  sentenced  him  to  be  hung  the  next 
morning,  a  sentence  of  which  the  fulfillment  was  only  prevented 
by  the  arrival  of  Newport,  from  England,  the  same  evening. 
The  affectionate  Pocahontas  and  her  father  did  not  forget  Smith. 
Two  or  three  days  after  his  return  a  fire  broke  out,  destroying 
their  buildings  and  supplies  at  the  fort.  Shortly  afterward, 
Pocahontas,  a  perfectly  nude  maiden,  appeared  at  the  fort  with 
a  train  of  attendants  such  as  herself,  bringing  presents  of  corn 
and  game  to  Smith  and  his  friends.  This  visit  was  only  the 
first  of  a  long  series,  in  which  Pocahontas  came  to  the  fort  regu 
larly,  at  least  twice  a  week,  with  abundant  gifts.  She  was  only 
eleven  or  twelve  years  old,  evidently  of  a  kind  and  generous 
nature,  but  full  of  the  fun  which  belongs  to  youth.  On  the 
occasions  of  her  visits  to  the  fort,  she  became  well  acquainted 
with  the  men.  Her  sportiveness  was  manifested  by  "  making 
cart  wheeles,"  falling  on  her  hands,  "  heeles  upwards,"  and  turn 
ing  over  and  over  around  the  fort. 

During  Smith's  seven  weeks'  captivity,  which  had  been  a 
great  advantage  in  gaining  the  confidence  and  learning  the  lan 
guage  of  the  Indians,  he,  in  order  to  awe  them,  greatly  bragged 
of  the  immense  power  and  skill  of  Captain  Newport.  Though 
he  secretly  despised  the  man,  Smith,  priest-like,  set  up  the 
bogus  image  before  the  worshiping  multitude,  and  called  it 
divine.  Powhatan  naturally  had  a  great  desire  to  see  New 
port,  and  he  was  promised  the  pleasure.  The  new-comers  on 


32  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  ship  completely  demoralized  the  prices  in  trade  with  the 
Indians.  The  sailors  were  foolishly  granted  the  privilege  of 
trading,  and  it  soon  took  a  pound  of  copper  to  buy  the  quantity 
of  corn  for  which  only  an  ounce  of  the  metal  had  previously  been 
required.  Only  such  Indians  as  had  his  special  license  were 
allowed  by  Powhatan  to  visit  the  fort  and  trade.  One  poor 
redskin  slipped  in  one  day  without  license,  and  furtively  sold  a 
little  basket  of  corn.  For  this  offense  the  emperor  had  him 
killed.  Newport  sent  forward  to  Powhatan  presents,  much  too 
rich  to  be  wise,  and  followed  himself  with  Smith  and  forty  men. 

When  they  arrived  at  Werowocomoco,  the  wary  Newport 
declined  going  ashore,  for  fear  of  treachery,  till  Smith  first 
examined  the  situation.  Even  Smith,  before  crossing  the  crazy 
traps,  which  bridged  a  network  of  creeks,  required  a  large  num 
ber  of  Indians  to  precede  him,  and  retained  others  as  hostages, 
lest  the  aifairs  should  be  pitfalls.  The  village  wore  a  holi 
day  look.  Fifty  great  platters  of  fine  bread  stood  in  front  of 
Powhatan's  lodge.  The  emperor  received  Smith  with  great 
state  and  display,  caused  him  to  sit  on  the  right  hand  of  his 
throne,  and  renewed  the  old  acquaintance  with  friendly  conver 
sation,  in  which  Smith's  joke  about  the  "  gunnes  and  grynde- 
stone"  drew  much  loud  laughter.  Smith  presented  Powhatan 
with  a  suit  of  red  cloth,  a  white  greyhound,  and  a  hat.  He 
was  lodged  with  Powhatan,  and  served  by  a  young  Indian 
woman,  who  was  appointed  to  attend  him,  with  an  abundance 
of  rich  and  various  food.  In  the  evening  there  was  a  feast, 
with  songs,  dances,  and  speeches.  Next  morning  Newport  came 
ashore,  and  was  royally  entertained  for  four  days.  Powhatan 
spared  no  effort  to  elaborate  his  hospitality,  proclaiming  death 
to  any  subject  who  offered  any  discourtesy  to  his  guests.  New 
port  gave  him  a  white  boy,  Thomas  Savage,  as  a  present. 

When  they  came  to  trade,  Powhatan  was  much  too  crafty 
for  Newport.  He  affected  great  dignity,  said  the  great  Pow 
hatan  could  not  enter  into  a  dicker.  "Let  Captain  Newport 
lay  down  all  his  commodities.  Such  as  Powhatan  wants  he  will 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PO  WHAT  AN.  33 

take  and  then  make  such  recompense  as  is  right."  Such  was 
his  speech.  Newport  fell  into  the  trap.  He  received  four 
bushels  of  corn  when  he  should  have  had  two  hundred.  Smith 
seeing  this  failure,  apparently  by  accident  glanced  some  blue 
beads,  so  that  their  glint  caught  the  eye  of  the  Indian,  who  at 
once  became  eager  to  see  them.  Smith  denied  having  them, 
then  protested  he  could  not  sell  them,  that  they  were  made  of 
the  same  stuff  as  the  sky,  and  were  only  to  be  worn  by  the 
greatest  kings  on  earth.  All  this  inflamed  the  savage's  anxi 
ety  to  the  highest  pitch,  and  he  offered  twenty,  fifty,  a  hundred, 
two  hundred,  three  hundred  bushels  of  corn.  Smith  yielded 
to  this  last  offer  with  great  show  of  reluctance,  took  his  corn, 
"and  yet,"  he  says,  "parted  good  friends." 

The  presence  of  Newport's  ship  at  the  colony  was  a  constant 
demoralization.  Such  of  the  shoremen  as  had  any  thing  of 
value  whatever  traded  it  to  the  sailors  for  liquor  or  ship  stores, 
which  were  wasted  in  excesses.  Smith  wanted  Newport  to 
leave,  but  he  caught  the  "gold  fever,"  and  remained  fourteen 
weeks,  diligently  loading  his  vessel  with  river  sand,  in  which 
were  shining  particles  of  mica,  which  he  insisted  were  gold. 
The  idle  colonists  gave  up  regular  work,  in  spite  of  Smith's 
expostulations,  and  dreamed  of  fabulous  wealth.  The  ship 
remained  so  long  that  its  stores  were  exhausted,  and  instead 
of  the  colony  receiving  supplies  from  Newport,  actually  had  to 
divide  its  meager  store  to  revictual  the  ship  for  the  return. 
Newport  sailed  proudly  away  with  his  cargo  of  dirt,  but  not 
without  doing  a  mischief  to  the  colony.  Powhatan,  with  a 
motive  clear  as  day  to  Smith,  sent  Newport  twenty  turkeys, 
asking  for  twenty  swords  in  return,  which  the  goose  at  once 
sent  him.  Soon  afterward  he  sent  a  like  present  and  message 
to  Smith,  but  obtained  no  swords  for  his  trouble,  which  angered 
him.  Though  professing  friendship,  the  Indians  began  to  give 
trouble  with  their  thieving.  Several  men  from  the  fort  were 
waylaid  in  the  forest  and  stripped  of  their  weapons.  Thus 
matters  went  on  till  Smith  took  several  of  the  Indians  prisoners, 


34  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES, 

and  by  dint  of  threats  and  promises  learned  from  them  that  the 
crafty  Powhatan,  seeing  the  superiority  of  English  weapons,  and 
designing  to  massacre  the  colony,  had  undertaken  to  trade  for 
weapons  with  Newport  and  Smith,  and,  failing  with  the  latter, 
to  take  them  from  the  colonists  whenever  caught  out  alone. 
Another  sign  of  hostility  was  the  return  of  the  boy  Savage, 
with  bag  and  baggage,  to  the  fort.  Learning  that  some  of  his 
people  were  prisoners,  the  emperor  of  Virginia  sent  the  lovely 
Pocahontas,  "  who  not  only  for  feature,  countenance,  and  pro 
portion,  much  exceedeth  any  of  the  rest  of  his  people,  but  for 
wit  and  spirit  the  only  nonpareil  of  his  country,"  to  Smith  to 
deny  hostile  intentions  and  ask  for  the  release  of  his  men. 
Any  favor  asked  by  Pocahontas  was  certain  to  be  granted,  and 
after  prayers,  and  a  hearty  meal,  the  warriors  were  given  back 
their  bows  and  arrows,  and  restored  to  liberty. 

Smith,  who  was  never  idle,  one  day  went  on  an  exploring 
trip  around  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  on  which  he  met  with  many 
adventures.  Once  he  caught  a  fish  on  his  sword,  which  in 
being  taken  oif  thrust  its  "  poysonne  sting  of  two  or  three  inches 
long,  bearded  like  a  saw,"  into  his  wrist.  The  arm  quickly 
swelled  to  an  enormous  size,  and  the  torment  was  so  great  that 
he  gave  up  hope,  and  his  friends  prepared  a  grave  under  his 
directions.  Luckily  "it  pleased  God,  by  a  precious  oyle  Dr. 
Russell  applied  to  it,  that  his  tormenting  paine  was  so  assuaged 
that  he  ate  of  that  fish  to  his  supper."  Once  he  met  the 
Susquehannock  Indians,  distinguished  by  their  friendly  disposi 
tion  and  enormous  stature.  Their  tobacco  pipes  were  three 
feet  long,  their  voices  "sounded  from  them  as  they  were  a 
great  noyse  in  a  vault  or  cave,  as  an  ecco."  The  calf  of  the 
chief's  leg  "was  three-quarters  of  a  yard  about,"  and  his  body 
of  similar  proportions. 

On  September  10,  1608,  Smith  was  made  president  of  the 
colony.  He  at  once  stopped  the  erection  of  a  pleasure  house, 
which  RatclifFe,  who  had  succeeded  Wingfield  in  the  presidency, 
was  having  built  for  his  own  use,  and  set  the  men  about  useful 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  35 

labor:  Things  had  barely  begun  to  run  smoothly  when  the 
marplot  Newport  returned  with  several  wild  schemes.  He 
brought  with  him  orders  for  a  coronation  of  Powhatan  as 
emperor,  together  with  elaborate  presents  for  the  old  Indian. 

A  more  foolish  thing  was  never  perpetrated.  The  effect 
of  the  coronation  was  to  increase  Powhatan's  notion  of  his  own 
importance,  and  make  it  impossible  to  maintain  friendly  relations 
with  him.  Smith's  hard  sense  protested  against  the  folly,  but 
finally  he  insisted  on  at  least  trying  to  get  Powhatan  to  come 
to  Jamestown  for  the  ceremony.  With  this  object  he  went  to 
Powhatan's  residence,  but  finding  him  away  from  home,  was 
compelled  to  wait  a  day  for  his  return.  In  the  meantime  Poca- 
hontas  had  some  more  of  her  fun.  Smith  and  his  men  were 
sitting  around  a  fire  in  the  open  air,  when  they  were  alarmed 
by  the  most  frightful  uproar  in  the  surrounding  woods.  They 
seized  their  arms  and  thought  they  were  betrayed.  In  a 
moment  Pocahontas  came  running  up  to  Smith,  and  told  him  he 
might  kill  her  if  any  hurt  was  intended,  and  explained  that  it 
was  only  sport.  At  the  head  of  her  thirty  young  women, 
attired  as  we  have  intimated  was  their  fashion,  she  led  them  in 
a  wonderful  "  anticke,"  dancing,  singing,  crying,  leaping,  casting 
themselves  in  circles  around  the  visitors,  and  "  falling  into  their 
infernal  passions."  An  hour  was  spent  in  this  "mascarade." 
Then  "  they  solemnly  invited  Smith  to  their  lodgings,  where  he 
was  no  sooner  in  the  house,  but  all  these  nymphs  more  tor 
mented  him  than  ever,  with  crowding,  pressing,  hanging  about 
him,  most  tediously  crying,  "Love  you  not  me?  Love  you  not 
me?"  After  this  he  was  seated  at  the  most  elaborate  banquet 
of  savage  dainties  which  the  ingenuity  of  Pocahontas  and  her 
nymphs  could  devise.  The  feast  at  last  broke  up,  and  his 
dusky  tormentors  escorted  him  to  his  lodging  with  a  fire-brand 
procession. 

In  the  morning,  Smith,  his  head  no  doubt  a  little  thick  from 
the  frolic,  stated  his  wish  to  Powhatan,  agreeing  to  assist  him 
in  a  war  against  his  enemies,  the  Monacans,  if  he  would  come 


36  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

to  Jamestown.  But  this  proud  representative  in  the  American 
forest  of  the  divine  rights  of  kings,  haughtily  replied :  . "  If  your 
king  has  sent  me  a  present,  I  also  am  a  king,  and  this  is  my 
land;  eight  days  I  will  stay  to  receive  them.  Your  father  is 
to  come  to  me,  not  I  to  him,  nor  yet  to  your  fort;  neither  will 
I  bite  at  such  a  bait;  as  for  the  Monacans,  I  can  revenge  my 
own  injuries." 

"This  was  the  lofty  potentate,"  says  a  charming  writer, 
"whom  Smith  could  have  tickled  out  of  his  senses  with  a  glass 
bead,  and  who  would  infinitely  have  preferred  a  big  shining 
copper  kettle  to  the  misplaced  honor  intended  to  be  thrust  upon 
him,  but  the  offer  of  which  puffed  him  up  beyond  the  reach  of 
negotiation." 

Smith  returned  with  his  message.  If  the  mountain  would 
not  come  to  Mahomet,  then  Mahomet  must  go  to  the  mountain. 
Smith  describes  with  rare  humor  the  ridiculous  ceremony  of 
the  coronation,  the  last  act  of  which  shows  that  Powhatan  him 
self  must  have  seen  the  size  of  the  joke.  "  The  presents  were 
brought  him,  his  bason  and  ewer,  bed  and  furniture  set  up,  his 
scarlet  cloke  and  apparel  with  much  adoe  put  on  him,  being 
assured  they  would  not  hurt  him.  But  a  foule  trouble  there 
was  to  make  him  kneel  to  receive  his  crown;  he  not  knowing 
the  majesty,  nor  wearing  of  a  crown,  nor  bending  of  the  knee, 
endured  so  many  persuasions,  examples,  and  instructions  as 
tyred  them  all.  At  last,  by  bearing  hard  on  his  shoulders,  he, 
a  little  stooped,  and  three  having  the  crown  in  their  hands,  put 
it  on  his  head,  when  by  the  warning  of  a  pistoll  the  boats  were 
prepared  with  such  a  volley  of  shot,  that  the  king  started  up  in 
a  horrible  feare,  till  he  saw  all  was  well.  Then  remembering 
himself  to  congratulate  their  kindness,  he  gave  his  old  shoes  and 
his  mantell  to  Capt.  Newport ! "  The  mountain  labored,  and 
brought  forth  a  mouse. 

This  magnificent  failure  to  get  two  ship  loads  of  corn  which 
Newport  had  promised,  reduced  the  colonists  almost  to  starva 
tion.  Smith,  finding  no  corn  was  to  be  procured  peaceably 


v 

THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  37 

from  the  Indians,  began  a  more  radical  policy.  Taking  a  strong 
force  with  him,  he  again  sailed  up  the  Chickahominy,  and 
declaring  his  purpose  to  be  to  avenge  his  captivity  and  the 
murder  of  his  men,  he  made  war.  It  was  not  long  before  the 
Indians  sued  for  peace,  and  paid  one  hundred  bushels  of  corn, 
a  serious  inroad  on  a  small  harvest,  for  their  crops  had  failed. 

Things  went  on  poorly  enough  at  the  fort.  Out  of  three  hun 
dred  axes,  hoes  and  pick-axes,  only  twenty  could  be  found,  the 
thievish  colonists  having  secretly  traded  them  off  to  the  Indians. 
The  hundred  bushels  of  corn  were  soon  gone.  In  their 
extremity  Powhatan  sent  word  to  Smith  to  visit  him,  send  him 
men  to  build  him  a  house,  give  him  a  grindstone,  fifty  swords, 
some  big  guns,  a  cock  and  hen,  much  copper  and  beads,  and  he 
would  in.return  load  Smith's  ship  with  corn.  Unwilling  to  miss 
an  opportunity,  however  slight,  to  procure  supplies,  Smith 
resolved  to  humor  Powhatan  by  sending  some  workmen,  among 
whom  were  two  knavish  Dutchmen,  to  build  the  house,  and  to 
follow  with  a  force  strong  enough  to  take  old  Powhatan's  corn 
by  force  if  it  could  not  be  had  peaceably. 

It  was  midwinter.  A  severe  storm  detained  Smith  and  his 
men  on  the  way,  and  compelled  them  to  celebrate  their  Christ 
mas  among  some  friendly  Indians.  While  the  winter  storm 
raged  without,  the  men  were  warmly  lodged  among  the  savages, 
and  feasted  around  the  roaring  fires  on  splendid  bread,  fish, 
oysters,  game,  and  wild  fowl. 

Proceeding  on  their  journey,  their  landing  at  Powhatan's 
residence  had  to  be  made  by  wading  breast  deep  through  the 
half  frozen  shallows  and  mire  for  a  half  mile.  Powhatan  sent 
down  provisions  for  them,  but  pretended  not  to  have  sent  for 
them  at  all.  Smith  reproached  him  with  deceit  and  hostility. 
Powhatan  replied  by  wordy  evasions,  and  seemed  coolly  indif 
ferent  about  his  new  house.  He  demanded  guns  and  swords  in 
exchange  for  corn,  which  Smith  refused.  The  old  emperor  then 
said  he  doubted  the  intentions  of  the  English,  for  he  had  heard 
that  they  came  not  so  much  for  trade  as  to  invade  and  possess 


38  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

his  country.  For  what  good  purpose  did  Smith  and  his  men 
carry  arms,  if  they  really  came  on  an  errand  of  peace?  Let 
them  leave  their  weapons  in  their  vessel,  in  order  that  his 
people  might  not  be  afraid  to  bring  in  their  corn,  and  as  a  proof 
that  their  intentions  were  peaceful.  "Let  us  all  be  friends 
together  and  forever  Powhatans."  The  secret  of  Powhatan's 
conduct  lay  in  the  fact,  not  entirely  discovered  by  Smith  for 
some  months,  that  the  two  Dutchmen,  yielding  to  the  seductive 
influence  of  Powhatan's  abundant  table  and  comfortable  quar 
ters,  had  betrayed  the  destitute  condition  of  the  colonists  to  him. 

At  an  interval  in  the  dispute  Smith  managed  to  trade  an  old 
copper  kettle  to  the  emperor  for  eighty  bushels  of  corn.  Then 
the  debate  was  renewed  with  the  same  vigor.  Powhatan,  liar 
that  he  was,  said  that  he  had  lived  to  see  the  death  of  three 
generations  of  his  people,  and  his  experience  taught  him  that 
peace  was  better  than  war.  Why  then  would  the  English  try 
to  take  by  force  what  they  could  quickly  have  by  love?  Why 
would  they  destroy  Powhatan  and  his  people  who  provided  them 
food?  What  could  be  gained  by  war?  Powhatan  in  his  old 
age  could  take  his  people,  hide  their  corn,  burn  their  lodges,  fly 
to  the  forest,  and  live  there  in  the  cold,  subsisting  on  acorns  and 
roots.  But  this  would  not  only  make  him  and  his  people  bit 
terly  unhappy;  the  English  themselves  must  starve  if  they 
destroyed  the  people  who  furnished  them  food.  Powhatan  and 
Captain  Smith  would  alike  end  their  lives  in  misery.  He  con 
cluded  with  an  earnest  appeal  to  Smith  to  have  his  men  lay 
aside  their  guns  and  swords. 

But  Smith  was  proof  against  this  eloquence.  Believing  that 
Powhatan's  purpose  was  to  disarm  the  English  and  then  mas 
sacre  them,  he  ordered  his  men  to  break  the  ice  and  bring  the 
vessel  nearer  shore.  Then  more  men  were  to  land  and  an 
attack  was  to  be  made.  The  intellect  of  the  Indian  and  the 
white  man  were  well  matched  in  their  insight  into  character 
and  in  craftiness.  No  diplomacy  inferior  to  that  of  the  Indian 
emperor  could  have  so  long  retained  the  upper  hand  of  Smith. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  39 

No  leader  of  less  courage  and  resources  than  John  Smith  could 
so  long  have  maintained  a  starving  colony  in  the  hostile  domin 
ions  of  the  great  Powhatan.  In  order  to  consummate  the  move 
ment  by  which  his  entire  force  should  become  available  for 
action,  Smith  kept  Powhatan  engaged  in  a  lengthy  conversation. 
But  the  Indian  outwitted  him.  Suspecting  his  motive,  Pow 
hatan,  skillfully  excused  himself  for  a  moment,  leaving  three  of 
his  most  entertaining  wives  to  occupy  Smith's  attention,  and 
passing  through  the  rear  of  his  bark  dwelling,  escaped  to  the 
forest,  while  the  house  was  silently  surrounded  by  his  warriors. 

When  Smith  discovered  his  danger,  he  rushed  boldly  out, 
fired  at  the  nearest  Indian,  and  made  his  way  unhurt  to  the 
shore.  The  English,  then,  with  leveled  muskets,  forced  the 
Indians  to  load  the  boat  with  corn.  Night  came  on;  the  work 
was  done,  but  the  vessel  could  not  sail  till  high  tide.  Smith 
and  his  men  had  to  pass  the  night  ashore.  Powhatan  designed 
to  surprise  them  by  an  attack  while  at  their  supper.  Once 
more  the  gentle  Pocahontas  saved  Smith.  Slipping  into  the 
camp,  she  took  Smith  aside,  hurriedly  told  him  that  her  father 
would  shortly  send  down  an  abundant  supper  for  the  English, 
but,  that  while  the  latter  were  engaged  in  the  meal,  an  attack 
would  be  made  by  her  father,  with  all  his  warriors.  Smith 
offered  her  handsome  presents  and  rewards,  but  with  tears  run 
ning  down  her  cheeks,  she  refused  them  all,  saying,  that  if  she 
were  seen  to  have  them,  it  would  cost  her  her  life.  Once  more 
urging  Smith  to  depart,  the  affectionate  girl  turned  from  him 
and  fled  into  the  forest,  the  gloom  of  which  was  deepened  by 
the  thickening  shadows  of  a  winter  twilight.  Presently  ten 
huge  savages  came,  bearing  a  hot  supper  for  the  English,  and 
urged  them  to  eat.  But  Smith  compelled  the  cooks  first  to 
taste  their  own  broth  as  an  assurance  that  it  was  not  poisoned, 

The  night  was  one  of  anxiety.  Large  numbers  of  savages 
could  be  seen  lurking  around.  No  one  was  permitted  to  sleep, 
but  all  were  required  to  be  prepared  for  a  fight  at  any  moment. 
Their  vigilance  saved  them,  and  in  the  morning  the  homeward 


40  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

trip  was  commenced.  It  was  a  dark  prospect  for  the  colonists. 
They  had  escaped  this  time,  but  could  they  always  do  as  well? 
Where  were  their  supplies  to  come  from,  if  not  from  the  Indians  ? 
Meanwhile,  the  Dutch  traitors  made  a  trip  overland  to  the  fort, 
represented  that  Smith  had  sent  them,  and  procured  guns, 
ammunition,  fifty  swords,  tools,  and  clothing.  They  also  induced 
six  "  expert  thieves  "  to  desert  with  them  to  Powhatan. 

On  the  way  back  Smith  had  a  thrilling  adventure  with  Ope- 
chancanough,  the  savage  to  whom  Smith  had  delivered  his  lec 
ture  on  astronomy.  In  the  hope  of  securing  corn,  Smith  took 
fifteen  men  and  went  up  to  the  chief's  house,  where  he  found 
himself  betrayed  and  surrounded  by  seven  hundred  armed  sav 
ages.  Smith  spoke  to  his  men,  told  them  to  follow  his  example 
and  die  fighting.  He  l^hen  openly  accused  Opechancanough  of 
an  intent  to  murder  him,  and  challenged  him  to  single  combat, 
the  Indian  to  choose  the  weapons,  and  the  victor  to  cut  off  the 
other's  head  and  be  lord  over  the  countrymen  of  the  vanquished. 
This  the  Indian  refused,  denied  his  hostile  intention,  and  laid  a 
handsome  present  just  outside  the  door.  Had  Smith  gone  out 
side,  he  would  have  fallen,  pierced  by  a  hundred  arrows.  Seiz 
ing  an  opportunity,  he  rushed  up  to  the  king,  grabbed  him  by 
the  hair,  placed  a  loaded  pistol  at  his  head,  and  marched  him 
around,  half  dead  with  fright,  before  all  his  warriors.  Looking 
on  Smith  as  a  god,  the  people  threw  down  their  arms.  It  was 
not  long  till  they  were  trading  in  good  style.  Here  Smith  was 
overtaken  by  a  messenger  from  the  fort,  who  had  gone  to  Pow- 
hatan's  residence,  seen  great  preparations  for  war,  and  only 
escaped  alive  through  being  concealed  by  Pocahontas  in  her 
lodge,  and,  having  been  furnished  by  her  with  provisions  for 
his  journey,  safely  conducted  away  at  night. 

New  disasters  at  the  fort  required  Smith's  presence.  Beset 
by  hostile  savages  along 'the  river,  he  at  last  reached  home,  with 
five  hundred  bushels  of  corn  as  the  result  of  this  exhausting 
campaign  in  the  dead  of  winter.  New  hardships  beset  the  col- 
-ony,  but  were  met  with  renewed  energy  on  the  part  of  Smith. 


B  * 


BATTLE  OF  CAPTAIN  SMITH  AND  THE  INDIAN  CHIEF. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  43 

The  renegade  Dutchmen  managed  through  confederates  in  the 
gang  of  ruffians  within  the  fort  to  continue  the  thefts  of  arms 
and  ammunition. 

One  day,  Smith,  while  walking  in  the  forest,  encountered 
the  gigantic  king  of  Paspahey,  and  a  terrible  combat  ensued. 
The  savage,  of  great  strength  and  stature,  slowly  forced  Smith 
into  the  water,  intending  to  drown  him.  But  the  Indian  stum 
bled  over  a  stone.  To  regain  his  balance  he  threw  up  his 
hands.  At  the  same  instant  Smith's  iron  hand  grasped  his 
throat;  with  the  other  hand  the  Englishman  whipped  out  his 
sword  to  kill  his  foe.  But  the  Indian  pleaded  for  his  life. 
Smith  was  a  kind-hearted  fellow,  and  besides,  full  of  vanity. 
The  notion  struck  him  that  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  take  the 
big  Indian  prisoner  to  the  fort  as  proof  of  his  prowess.  This 
he  at  once  proceeded  to  do.  Our  artist  has  given  us  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  scene  of  the  combat,  just  at  the  moment  when 
Smith,  clutching  his  adversary's  throat,  paused  with  sword  in 
air.  The  Indian  was  taken  safely  to  the  fort  and  put  in  chains. 
He  subsequently  managed  to  escape,  probably  through  the  help 
of  Smith's  enemies. 

Shortly  afterward,  on  a  trip  up  the  Pamunkey  (now  York) 
River,  Smith  was  attacked  by  this  king's  people,  but  when  they 
knew  their  foe,  they  threw  down  their  arms,  and  their  best  ora 
tor  addressed  Smith,  telling  him  that  his  ex-captive  was  there 
and  proceeding  to  justify  the  escape.  "  Do  you  blame  the  fish 
for  swimming,  or  the  bird  for  flying?  Then  you  should  not 
blame  my  master  for  obeying  the  instinct  of  his  nature  to  escape 
to  the  freedom  of  his  forests.  Why  do  you  pursue  us  and  force 
us  at.  too  great  loss  to  avenge  the  injuries  we  receive  at  your 
hands  ?  The  red  man  is  a  savage ;  he  knows  not  the  white  man's 
God.  But  these  are  his  rivers  and  forests.  Here  his  people 
have  hunted  and  fished,  planted  seed  and  gathered  harvests,  for 
many  generations.  Yet  the  white  man  seeks  to  take  what  is  not 
his.  If  you  succeed  in  conquering  us,  we  will  simply  abandon 
the  country  of  our  fathers,  and  remove  to  a  place  where  we  will 


44  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

be  beyond  the  white  man's  reach.  If  that  were  done  the  English 
would  gain  nothing,  but  would  lose  the  corn  and  fruit  we  are 
willing  to  sell  them.  Why  not,  then,  let  us  enjoy  our  houses, 
and  plant  our  fields  in  peace  and  security,  seeing  that  you  as 
well  as  we  will  be  benefited  by  our  toil?"  The  result  of  this 
speech  was  a  friendship  which  lasted  for  many  years. 

A  singular  incident  at  this  time  raised  Smith's  reputation  to 
the  highest  pitch  among  the  savages.  Two  of  Powhatan's  peo 
ple  had  stolen  a  pistol.  Smith  arrested  them,  threw  one  in  the 
dungeon,  and  gave  the  other  a  certain  time  to  produce  the  pistol, 
in  default  of  which  the  prisoner  should  die.  Smith,  pitying  the 
fellow  in  the  dungeon,  sent  him  some  food  and  some  charcoal  for 
a  fire.  At  midnight  the  other  returned  with  the  pistol,  but  his 
friend  was  found  badly  burned,  and  smothered  to  death  with 
charcoal  fumes.  The  grief  of  the  poor  fellow  was  so  great  that 
Smith  said,  if  he  would  be  quiet  he  would  restore  his  compan 
ion  to  life.  Little  thinking  a  recovery  would  take  place,  Smith 
applied  stimulants  arid  rubbed  the  Indian's  body,  when  suddenly 
he  sat  up !  To  the  great  sorrow  of  his  friend  the  "  dead  "  Indian 
was  crazy.  Smith,  catching  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  told  the  other 
to  be  quiet,  and  he  would  restore  reason  to  his  friend  also.  The 
patient  was  laid  by  the  fire  and  allowed  to  sleep,  till  morning. 
He  awoke  in  his  right  senses.  Thenceforth  the  Indians  believed 
Smith  could  restore  the  dead  to  life.  For  three  months,  the 
colonists,  through  the  iron  discipline  of  Smith,  enjoyed  peace 
and  prosperity.  Twenty  cabins  were  built  at  the  fort;  a  block 
house  erected  for  defense,  through  which  lay  the  only  entrance; 
a  good  well  was  dug,  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  tar  and  soap 
ashes  manufactured. 

One  day  the  unlucky  colonists  found  that  their  abundant 
store  of  corn  was  eaten  up  by  the  rats,  which,  from  the  few 
brought  over  in  the  ship,  had  increased  to  thousands.  With 
out  corn  for  bread  work  had  to  be  stopped.  No  provision, 
except  wild  roots  and  herbs,  could  be  procured  at  that  time  of 
year.  Eighty  men  were  sent  down  the  bay  to  live  on  oysters ; 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  45 

twenty  went  up  the  river  to  subsist  on  fish.  The  Indians,  to 
show  their  friendship,  brought  to  the  fort  what  game  they 
could  find.  Sturgeon  were  abundant.  Those  of  the  colony 
who  were  not  too  lazy,  dried  the  fish,  pounded  it  to  powder, 
mixed  it  with  herbs,  and  made  a  very  tolerable  bread.  The 
majority,  however,  would  rather  starve  than  work.  They 
importuned  and  abused  Smith  because  he  refused  to  trade 
guns,  swords,  and  ammunition  for  corn.  He,  at  last,  issued  an 
order,  reciting  that  every  man  able  to  work  who  failed  to 
gather  each  day  as  much  provision  in  a  day  as  he  himself  did? 
should  be  taken  across  the  river,  and  left  as  a  drone.  Some  of 
the  vagabonds  preferred  to  desert  to  the  Indians,  where  they 
could  partake  of  the  abundance  without  labor.  But  Powhatan 
and  his  tributary  chieftains  imitated  Smith,  and  all  whites  who 
refused  to  work  were  flogged  and  sent  back  to  the  fort. 

Meanwhile  treachery  was  at  work  without  and  within.  The 
villians  at  the  fort  plotted  with  Powhatan  to  betray  it.  The 
Indians  were  being  taught  that  King  James  would  kill  Smith 
for  his  ill-treatment  of  them.  Besides  these  obstacles,  the  Vir 
ginia  Company  was  greatly  dissatisfied.  A  considerable  invest 
ment  of  money  in  the  colony  had  brought  no  return.  The 
North  Sea  was  undiscovered.  This  was  without  excuse,  argued 
the  London  magistrates,  when  only  a  little  longer  trip,  twenty, 
thirty,  or  forty  miles  would,  doubtless,  have  brought  the  colo 
nists  to  the  other  ocean.  What  want  of  courage  and  common 
sense  was  shown  by  not  pushing  the  matter  !  Besides,  there 
were  yet  no  cargoes  of  gold  pigs  or  even  copper  pigs  sent  home. 
There  must  be  gold  there.  Every  one  said  there  was.  Prob 
ably  Smith  was  amassing  a  fortune,  and  his  colony  rolling  in  a 
life  of  wealth  and  luxury,  while  he  left  the  Honorable  Board 
of  Directors  to  hold  the  bag.  No  doubt  there  were  mountain 
ranges  of  solid  gold  in  Virginia,  but  the  directors  were  not  fault 
finding.  A  certain  report  of  one  single  mountain,  or  even  hill, 
of  gold  would  be  satisfactory.  Even  a  very  little  hill,  say  two 
hundred  feet  high  and  tAVo  thousand  feet  in  circumference,  if  it 


46  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

were  not  full  of  caves,  would  be   quite   comforting.      Such  a 
modest  demand,  they  argued,  ought  to  be  complied  with. 

Thus,  at  war  with  the  Indians,  betrayed  by  his  own  men, 
and  misrepresented  and  abused  by  the  English  capitalists, 
Smith,  no  doubt,  felt  that,  after  all  his  hardships,  his  fall  was 
at  hand.  Lord  De  La  Ware  and  others  obtained  a  new  charter 
and  commission  from  the  English  king.  Preparations,  more 
elaborate  than  for  any  previous  expedition,  were  made.  Sev 
eral  ships  in  the  fleet  were  wrecked  in  a  storm.  Those  which 
reached  Jamestown  brought  many  enemies  of  Smith,  and  a 
great  crowd  of  the  London  riff-raff.  Smith,  not  yet  formally 
superseded,  continued  to  exert  his  authority. 

To  relieve  the  Jamestown  settlement  somewhat  of  its  unruly 
elements,  Smith  planned  two  new  settlements,  one  under  Cap 
tain  West  and  one  under  Martin.  Each,  with  its  proportion 
of  provisions,  set  out  in  high  glee.  Martin  and  his  men  went 
to  Nausemon.  The  poor  savages  received  him  kindly,  but  the 
novice  mistook  their  noisy  mirth,  as  they  celebrated  his  arrival, 
for  hostility,  and  falling  on  the  wretched  Indians,  captured  their 
poor,  naked  king  and  his  houses.  The  work  of  fortification  was 
begun,  and  the  savages,  divining  Martin's  fear,  attacked  him, 
released  their  king,  killed  several  men  and  captured  a  thousand 
bushels  of  corn  which  Martin  had  traded  for. 

The  other  expedition  pitched  its  settlement  in  low,  swampy 
ground,  liable  to  inundation,  and  well  suited  to  breed  fevers 
among  the  men.  To  remedy  this  mistake  Smith,  still  the 
president,  sent  to  Powhatan  proposing  to  buy  the  town  called 
Powhatan,  for  the  new  settlement.  A  treaty  was  at  last  made 
between  them,  by  the  terms  of  which  Powhatan  agreed  to 
resign  the  town,  its  forts  and  houses,  with  the  entire  region 
thereabouts  to  the  English.  The  latter,  in  return,  were  to 
defend  him  and  his  dominions  from  the  Monacans,  and  to  pay 
annually  a  certain  proportion  of  copper.  All  thieves  were  to 
be  promptly  returned  to  their  own  people  for  punishment.  Each 
house  of  Powhatan's  was  to  annually  furnish  one  bushel  of  corn 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  47 

in  exchange  for  a  cubic  inch  of  copper.  When  this  treaty  of 
trade  and  friendship  was  completed,  the  swaggerers  and  roust 
abouts  of  the  settlement  denied  Smith's  authority,  and  refused 
to  stir  an  inch  from  their  swamp.  In  attempting  to  quell  the 
mutiny  Smith  barely  escaped  with  his  life.  Well  knowing  the 
importance  of  keeping  faith  with  Powhatan,  he  exerted  all  his 
skill  to  induce  the  men  to  take  advantage  of  the  treaty.  But 
the  settlement  had  the  notion  that  the  Monacan  country  was 
full  of  gold,  that  they  could  prevent  any  one  else  than  them 
selves  from  visiting  it,  and  that  Smith's  desire  to  remove  them 
was  prompted  by  his  wish  to  secure  access  to  the  gold  fields  for 
himself. 

Meanwhile,  Powhatan's  people  began  to  complain  bitterly 
to  Smith.  The  old  emperor  sent  messengers,  saying  that  those 
whom  he  had  brought  for  their  protectors  were  worse  enemies 
than  the  Monacans  themselves ;  that  these  "  protectors  stole 
their  corn,  robbed  their  gardens,  broke  open  their  houses,  beat 
them,  and  put  many  in  prison ;  that,  heretofore,  out  of  love  for 
him,  they  had  borne  these  wrongs,  but  after  this  they  must 
defend  themselves."  The  shrewd  old  diplomate  also  offered  to 
fight  with  Smith  against  the  settlement  and  quell  the  mutiny, 
which  he  was  keen  enough  to  perceive  and  understand. 

Failing  in  his  well-meant  efforts,  Smith  sailed  away.  Acci 
dents  are  sometimes  fortunate.  His  ship  ran  aground.  Mes 
sengers  came  running,  begging  him  to  return.  In  the  brief 
interval  since  his  departure,  Powhatan's  enraged  people  had 
made  an  Attack,  killing  many  of  the  settlement.  Smith 
returned,  restored  order,  removed  the  colony  to  the  town  Pow- 
hatan,  where  they  found  a  fort  capable  of  defense  against  all 
the  savages  in  Virginia,  good  warm  and  dry  houses  to  live  in, 
and  two  hundred  acres  of  land  ready  for  planting  corn.  This 
comfortable  and  secure  place  was  called  Non-such.  Hardly 
were  they  well  settled,  when  the  old  infatuation  seized  them. 
Mutiny  broke  out.  Smith,  seeing  the  mutineers  bent  on  their 
own  destruction,  gave  up  in  despair  and  left  them  forever. 


48  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

They  at  once  abandoned  the  eligible  lodges  and  fort  at  Non 
such  to  return  to  the  open  air,  and  poisoned  at  that,  of  the 
old  swamp. 

Misfortunes  come  not  singly  but  in  whole  battalions.  As 
Smith  was  returning  to  Jamestown,  disgusted  at  the  folly  lie 
had  witnessed,  a  bag  of  powder  in  the  boat  was  accidentally  fired, 
tearing  the  flesh  from  his  body  and  thighs  and  inflicting  terrible 
burns.  In  his  agony  he  leaped  into  the  river,  and  was  barely 
saved  from  drowning.  Lacking  both  doctor  and  nurse,  flat  on 
his  back  at  the  fort,  suffering  untold  torments  from  the  wounds, 
poor  Smith  succumbed  at  last.  His  enemies  deposed  him;  a 
plot  to  murder  him  in  his  bed  was  almost  consummated,  an  elab 
orate  indictment  for  his  misdeeds  was  drawn  up,  and  on  Septem 
ber  29,  1609,  he  sailed  away  from  the  inhospitable  shores  of 
Virginia  to  return  no  more — 

"Ingratitude,  more  strong  than  traitor's  arms, 
O'ercame  him  quite." 

Powhatan  at  once  commenced  active  hostilities. 

Henry  Spelman  was  an  English  boy  whom  Smith  had  given 
to  Powhatan  in  the  trade  for  the  town  of  the  same  name.  He 
had  afterwards  left  Powhatan  and  returned  to  the  fort.  Pow 
hatan  sent  Thomas  Savage,  the  other  boy  whom  Newport  had 
given  him,  to  Jamestown  on  an  errand.  Savage  complained 
of  loneliness,  and  easily  persuaded  Spelman  to  return  with  him. 
Powhatan  now  made  use  of  him  by  sending  word  to  the  fort 
that  he  would  sell  them  corn  if  they  would  come  up  for  it.  It 
may  be  easily  believed  that  supplies  were  running  low,  now  that 
Smith  was  no  longer  there  to  plan  and  execute  methods  for 
their  procurement.  An  expedition  of  thirty-eight  men  set  out 
at  once.  No  suspicion  of  treachery  was  felt.  As  the  boat 
landed,  the  Indians,  who  lay  in  ambush,  sprang  forth  in  over 
powering  numbers  and  killed  every  man  in  the  party  except 
Spelman,  who  was  returning  with  them.  He  fled  through  the 
woods,  made  known  his  distress  to  Pocahontas,  whose  tender 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PO  WHAT  AN.  49 

heart    seems    to    have    been    ever    responsive    to    misfortune. 
Through   her  help   he   was  hidden   for  a  while,  furnished  with 
provisions  by  her  own  hand,  and  then  assisted  to  secret  flight. 
Powhatan    henceforth    haughtily    refused    all    trade.      The 
forests   were    filled   with   lurking   savages.     Many  a  man   went 
out  from  the   fort  to   hunt  game  who  never  returned.     Such 
food  as  they  had  on  hand  was   consumed  and   wasted  by  the 
officers.     The   colonists   bartered  away  their  very  swords  and 
guns,  with  which  alone  corn  could  be  procured.    Of  the  five  hun 
dred  colonists  at  the  time  of  Smith's  departure  there  remained, 
at  the  end  of  six  months,  only  sixty,  and  these  subsisted  chiefly 
on   "roots,  herbs,   acorns,  walnuts,  and   berries,  and   now   and 
then   a   little   fish."     It   is   almost   impossible    to    believe    the 
stories  of  this  "  starving  time."     The  corpses  of   two   savages 
who  had  been  killed,  were  seized  by  the  poorer  colonists,  boiled 
with  roots  and  herbs,  and  greedily  devoured.     "  One  among  the 
rest  did  Ml  his  wife,  powdered  her,  and  had  eaten  part  of  her 
before  it  was  known"     This  man  was  burned  alive  for  his  crime. 
Strange  as  this  story  is,  it  was  reaffirmed  in  most  particulars  in 
the  published  report  of  an  official  investigation  into  the  affairs 
of  the  colony  by  the  London  directors  in  the  year  1610.     These 
extremities  were  the  result  of  sloth,  vice,  and  crime  as  much 
as  of  the  natural  hardships  of  the  situation.     The  colony  was 
composed   of  the   very   offscourings   of   London.     All  planting 
and  gathering  of  crops  was  abandoned,  the  houses  decayed,  the 
church  became  a  tumbling  ruin.     They  ate  their  fish  raw  rather 
than  build  a  fire  and  cook  it.     When  Somers  and  Gates,  after 
terrible  adventures,  arrived  with  re-enforcements,  they  said  the 
colony  would   have   been   extinct  in  ten  days  had    not  succor 
arrived. 

With  wavering  fortunes  the  colony  continued  to  exist.  We 
have  little  account  of  Powhatan,  owing  to  the  fact  that  his 
remorseless  hostility  cut  off  all  intercourse  with  him.  In  1613 
the  princess,  Pocahontas,  had  developed  into  the  maturer  beauty 
of  eighteen  years.  Captain  Argall,  Smith's  ancient  enemy,  was 


50  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

making  a  voyage  in  search  of  supplies,  when  he  learned  that 
Pocahontas,  instead  of  being  with  her  father,  the  emperor,  was 
living  with  the  King  Potowomek's  people.  It  is  not  certainly 
known  why  she  was  away  from  home.  There  are  reasons  for 
thinking  that  she  went  to  Potowomek,  partly  because  her  father 
suspected  her  of  friendship  to  the  English,  and  desired  to  remove 
her  from  their  vicinity,  and  partly,  because  she  herself  was  glad 
to  escape  from  the  scenes  of  torture  and  butchery  which  took 
place  on  the  occasion  of  every  capture  of  an  Englishman. 

Another  account  is,  that  she  was  making  a  friendly  visit  on 
the  occasion  of  an  Indian  fair.  Argall  resolved  to  capture  her 
if  possible,  and  force  Powhatan  to  ransom  her  by  the  release  of 
his  prisoners,  the  restoration  of  stolen  property,  and  abundant 
gifts  of  corn.  He  resorted  to  a  mean  stratagem.  Among  the  tribe 
whose  guest  she  was,  Argall  found  a  low  savage,  named  Jaba- 
zaws,  to  whom  he  offered  the  bribe  of  a  copper  kettle,  to  decoy 
her  on  board  his  ship.  The  scoundrel  had  a  keen  insight  into 
his  victim's  character.  Having  no  chance  to  play  upon  her  curi 
osity,  because  Pocahontas  had  seen  many  larger  vessels,  he 
instructed  his  wife  to  pretend  her  great  desire  to  see  one. 

Carefully  planning  for  Pocahontas  to  overhear  them,  the 
savage  proceeded  to  beat  his  wife  for  her  mock  importunities. 
She  cried  lustily,  and  at  last  he  told  her  that  if  Pocahontas 
would  go  aboard  with  her,  she  might  go.  The  amiable  girl, 
always  glad  to  oblige  others,  fell  into  the  snare.  Once  on 
board  the  ship,  Argall  decoyed  her  into  the  gun  room,  and 
locked  her  up,  in  order  to  conceal  from  her  the  treachery  of 
her  own  people.  Jabazaws  and  his  wife  gleefully  received  their 
reward.  Then  Argall  told  Pocahontas  she  was  his  prisoner, 
and  must  be  the  means  of  making  peace  between  the  English 
and  her  father.  At  this  announcement  the  cheat,  Jabazaws, 
and  his  wife,  cried  louder  than  poor  Pocahontas  herself,  finally, 
with  many  tears  and  embracings,  taking  leave  of  her.  The 
meanness  of  the  man  Argall,  who  could  thus  take  advantage 
of  a  young  girl,  a  barbarian,  forsooth,  whose  very  life  she  had 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PO  WHAT  AN.  51 

risked  again  and  again  to  help  the  English,  is  almost  beneath 
the  whip  of  scorn. 

This  gallant  gentleman  took  his  prize  to  Jamestown,  which 
she  looked  upon  for  the  first  time  since  Smith's  departure, 
four  years  before.  Messengers  were  dispatched  to  Powhatan, 
announcing  the  capture  of  his  daughter  and  the  requisite  ran 
som  set  on  her  head.  English  captives,  stolen  tools,  captured 
guns,  were  to  be  restored,  with  much  corn.  Powhatan  was 
greatly  disturbed  by  this  news.  Pocahontas  was  still  his  favor 
ite  daughter.  But  it  was  a  great  sacrifice  to  give  up  the  English 
weapons.  Besides  she  had  always  inclined  to  aid  the  English, 
which  was  wrong.  Whatever  were  the  thoughts  of  the  white- 
haired  emperor,  as  this  new  sorrow  burdened  his  heart,  it  was 
three  months  before  he  responded  to  the  message.  This  delay 
was  singular,  and  is  hard  to  account  for.  It  may  have  been 
caused  by  the  struggle  between  private  affection  for  his  daugh 
ter  and  public  duty  to  his  country  and  people.  At  the  end  of 
three  months,  he  sent  back  seven  of  his  English  captives,  each 
armed  with  an  unserviceable  musket,  and  promised,  on  the 
release  of  his  daughter,  to  give  five  hundred  bushels  of  corn. 
This  was  promptly  declined,  and  a  demand  made  for  the  return 
of  every  captive,  gun,  and  sword.  Powhatan  was  so  angered 
at  this  reply  that  he  was  not  heard  from  for  a  long  time. 

In  the  following  Spring,  an  expedition  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  men  took  Pocahontas,  and  went  up  to  Powhatan's  seat. 
The  emperor  refused  to  see  their  messengers.  The  English  then 
told  his  people  they  had  come  to  receive  a  ransom  for  Pocahon 
tas  and  restore  her  to  liberty.  To  this  the  Indians  replied 
with  showers  of  arrows.  A  fight  ensued.  Forty  houses  were 
burned.  Then  a  palaver  was  had,  and  a  truce  arranged  till  the 
following  day.  Meanwhile  Pocahontas  went  ashore,  and  two 
of  her  brothers  and  some  friends  were  permitted  to  see  her. 
She  welcomed  them,  but  in  a  rather  frigid  way.  She  spoke 
little  to  any  but  her  brothers,  and  told  them  plainly,  that  if 
her  father  loved  her,  he  would  not  value  her  less  than  old 


52  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

swords,  axes,  and  guns;  that  for  her  part,  she  preferred  to 
remain  with  her  captors,  who  treated  her  more  kindly  than  her 
father,  unless  he  manifested  his  affection  more  actively.  Her 
brothers  were  fond  of  her,  and  were  glad  to  find  her  gently 
treated.  They  promised  to  persuade  the  emperor  to  make  a 
peace.  Two  Englishmen,  John  Rolfe  and  one  Sparkes,  at  once 
started  to  Powhatan's  court  to  arrange  a  treaty.  He  haughtily 
refused  to  see  them,  but  his  brother,  Opechancanough,  intimated 
that  a  peace  might  be  effected. 

But  while  these  elaborate  negotiations  were  working  to  patch 
up  a  cumbrous  and  probably  short-lived  treaty,  another  power, 
with  more  skillful  hands,  was  knitting  a  surer  alliance.  Poca- 
hontas,  whose  gentle  and  refined  nature  from  the  first  seemed 
to  yearn  toward  the  civilization  of  the  English,  had  changed 
greatly  during  her  residence  with  them.  Her  tears  and  entreat 
ies  to  be  set  free,  at  the  time  of  her  capture,  are  in  marked  con 
trast  with  her  indifference,  at  the  interview  with  her  brothers, 
toward  her  own  people,  and  her  willingness  to  remain  with  the 
English.  The  real  reason  for  this  was  known  only  to  a  single 
one  of  her  captors,  Mr.  John  Rolfe,  a  steady,  industrious,  and 
enterprising  man,  one  of  the  best  of  the  colony.  He  was  a 
widower,  his  young  wife  having  died.  When  he  came  in  con 
tact  with  Pocahontas,  her  charms  of  person  and  graces  of  char 
acter  filled  him  with  an  admiration  tinged  with  emotion. 

Rolfe  was  a  very  religious  fellow,  and  he  made  his  Chris 
tian  duty  to  the  untutored  maiden  the  excuse  for  frequent  calls, 
long  conversations,  and  earnest  persuasions  to  renounce  her  idol 
atry,  and  adopt  the  true  Christian  religion.  Love  is  a  cunning 
fellow.  He  knows  the  foibles  of  human  nature.  He  delights 
to  masquerade  long  in  the  characters  of  duty,  friendship, 
mutual  improvement,  pleasure,  or  religion,  and  then  suddenly  to 
throw  aside  his  masque  and  startle  his  victims  with  the  sight 
of  his  own  true  self.  Thus  it  was  that  Master  Rolfe  kept 
assuring  himself  that  his  talks  and  persuasions  with  Pocahontas 
were  merely  done  from  a  sense  of  duty ;  and,  as  the  girl  slowly 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  53 

yielded  to  his  influence,  until  at  last,  just  before  her  wedding, 
she  renounced  the  religion  of  her  fathers,  and  formally  profess 
ing  her  adoption  of  Christianity,  was  baptized  and  re-christened 
by  the  name  of  Rebecca,  she  too  persuaded  herself  that  she 
was  animated  wholly  by  the  strength  of  Master  Rolfe's  argu 
ments  and  the  truth  of  his  cause. 

When  the  expedition  set  out,  of  which  the  object  was  to 
restore  Pocahontas  to  her  people,  Rolfe  must  have  undergone 
great  inward  torment.  He  resolved  to  ask  the  governor,  Sir 
Thomas  Dale,  for  permission  to  marry  Pocahontas.  Instead  of 
speaking  to  Dale,  whom  he  saw  every  day.  Rolfe  drew  up  a 
long  letter,  a  sort  of  theological  treatise,  to  him,  and  when  he 
set  out  to  interview  Powhatan  on  the  subject  of  the  peace,  left 
this  curious  document  with  a  faithful  friend,  who  was  to  deliver 
it  to  the  governor  in  the  author's  absence.  The  letter  is  a 
glorious  illustration  of  the  perfection  of  love's  masquerade,  his 
deft  concealment  of  his  real  character  from  his  victim. 

It  began  with  solemn  assertions  that  the  writer  was  moved 
only  by  the  Spirit  of  God;  that  he  sought  only  to  obey  his 
conscience,  as  a  preparation  for  the  "  dreadful  day  of  judgment, 
when  the  secrets  of  all  men's  hearts  shall  be  opened ;"  that  he 
was  in  no  way  led  by  "  carnall  affection,"  and  that  he  sought 
only  "for  the  good  of  this  plantation,  for  the  honor  of  our 
countrie,  for  the  glory  of  God,  for  my  owne  salvation,  and  for 
the  converting  to  the  true  knowledge  of  God  and  Jesus  Christ, 
an  unbelieving  creature,  namely  Pokahuntas."  He  went  on  to 
describe  how  long  the  subject  had  borne  on  his  mind,  how  he 
had  set  before  his  mind  the  proneness  of  mankind  to  evil 
desires,  how  he  had  studied  the  rebukes  of  the  Bible  against 
marrying  strange  wives ;  how  the  fearful  struggle  had  kept  up 
day  and  night  between  the  powers  of  light  and  darkness ;  how 
"  besides  the  weary  passions  and  suffering,  he  had  daiely,  hourely, 
yea,  and  in  his  sleep  indured;  even  awaking  him  to  astonish 
ment,  taxing  him  with  remissnesse,  and  carelessnesse,  refusing 
and  neglecting  to  perform  the  duteie  of  a  good  Christian,  pulling 


54  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

him  by  the  eare  and  crying ;  why  dost  thou  not  indeavor  to 
make  her  a  Christian?"  Still  he  proceeded  with  his  foolish 
delusion.  He  said  that  the  Holy  Spirit  often  demanded  why 
he  was  created,  if  not  to  labor  in  the  Lord's  vineyard.  Here 
was  a  good  chance  for  him.  Besides  all  which  were  her 
apparent  love  for  him,  her  intelligence  and  desire  to  be  taught, 
her  willingness  to  receive  good  impressions,  "and  also  the 
spirituall,  besides  her  owne  incitements  stirring  me  up  hereunto." 
That  these  "  incitements  "  and  the  rest  had  great  influence  over 
the  writer  of  this  remarkable  love-letter  is  plain.  "Shall  I  be 
of  so  untoward  a  disposition  as  to  refuse*  to  lead  the  blind  in 
the  right  way  ?  Shall  I  be  so  unnatural  as  not  to  give  bread 
to  the  hungrie,  or  uncharitable  as  not  to  cover  the  naked?" 

Such  horrible  wickedness  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  He 
determined  to  sacrifice  himself  on  the  altar  of  duty.  He  could 
not  close,  however,  without  renewed  protests  that  he  was  not 
influenced  by  his  own  desires  or  affections.  In  fact,  one  thinks 
he  doth  protest  too  much.  He  finishes,  saying,  "I  will  heartily 
accept  of  it  as  a  godly  taxe  appointed  me,  and  I  will  never 
cease  (God  assissting  me)  untill  I  have  accomplished  and  brought 
to  perfection  so  holy  a  worke,  in  which  I  will  daily  pray  God 
to  bless  me,  to  mine  and  her  eternal  happiness." 

Governor  Dale  read  this  tedious  missive,  and  no  doubt  saw 
the  size  of  the  joke.  But,  nevertheless,  he  could  see  the  mar 
riage  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the  colony,  and  lay  the  founda 
tion  for  a  lasting  peace.  He  approved  of  it  heartily,  humoring 
Rolfe  by  giving  his  assent  in  the  same  style  in  which  the  let 
ter  was  written,  and,  so  far  as  we  are  informed,  without  wound 
ing  the  susceptible  heart  of  the.  widower  by  any  facetious 
reflection  on  his  cant  and  self-delusion. 

Word  was  sent  to  Powhatan,  and  he,  too,  seemed  to  approve 
of  it.  He  was  growing  conservative  in  his  old  age,  and  he  saw 
in  the  marriage  a  career  suited  to  the  tastes  of  his  daughter  as 
well  as  an  assurance  of  long  continued  peace  for  his  weary 
people.  The  expedition  returned  to  Jamestown,  where  Poca- 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PO  WHAT  AN.  57 

hontas,  as  before  remarked,  formally  announced  her  conversion 
to  Christianity.  This  was  really  a  good  joke  on  Rolfe,  for  it 
demolished  at  one  blow  the  entire  fabric  of  mock  reasoning,  by 
which  he  justified  his  desire  to  marry  Pocahontas.  However, 
the  question  was  not  sprung.  Preparations  for  the  wedding 
went  on  merrily.  Powhatan  shortly  sent  down  an  old  uncle  of 
Pocahontas  to  represent  him  at  the  wedding  and  give  the  bride 
away.  The  ceremony  was  performed  in  the  Jamestown  Church, 
about  the  5th  of  April,  1614.  This  marriage  is  justly  cele 
brated  as  being  the  basis  for  a  peace  with  the  Powhatans 
as  long  as  Pocahontas  lived.  Other  tribes,  among  them  the 
Chickahominies,  who  are  said  to  have  had  no  king,  but  a  rude 
sort  of  republican  government,  sent  in  their  submission  to  this 
colony,  which  no  longer  had  occasion  for  war. 

It  is  instructive 4  to  notice  that  the  colony  at  this  time  aban 
doned  the  communal  system  of  property,  because  while  all  were 
fed  out  of  the  common  store,  some  would  shirk  the  labor,  and 
even  the  most  industrious  would  "scarcely  work  in  a  week  so 
much  as  they  would  for  themselves  in  a  single  day."  The  pros 
perity  of  the  colony  was  assured.  Communism  is  the  very  soul 
of  barbarism;  individual  property  the  earliest  sign  of  civilization. 

The  first  time  a  thing  occurs  it  is  remarkable.  The  wedding 
of  Rolfe  and  Pocahontas,  famous  as  the  first  marriage  of  a  white 
man  with  an  Indian  woman  on  this  continent,  recalls  an  incident 
which  had  transpired  twenty-seven  years  before.  This  was  the 
birth  of  a  little  waif  known  to  history  as  Virginia  Dare,  the 
first  white  child  born  in  America.  It  took  place  in  1587,  in 
the  unhappy  colony  at  Roanoke,  Virginia,  founded  under  the 
auspices  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  whose  transcendent  genius 
more  nearly  apprehended  the  glorious  destiny  of  America  than 
that  of  any  other  man  of  the  age.  This  little  maiden  was 
baptized  when  she  was  a  week  or  two  old.  The  scene  was 
one  of  thrilling  interest  to  the  anxious  group  of  spectators. 
That  ceremony  performed  over  the  unconscious  babe  has  been 
described  with  touching  interest  by  every  historian  of  America. 


58  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Well  might  it  be.  What  a  world  drama  has  been  and  will  be 
enacted  on  the  new  continent  between  the  births  of  the  first 
white  child  and  of  the  last  white  child  in  America!  But  the 
history  of  little  Virginia  Dare  closes  with  her  baptism.  Shortly 
after,  her  father,  leaving  his  wife  and  child  behind,  went  to 
England  for  food  and  help.  When  he  returned  no  trace  was  to 
be  found  of  the  colony,  save  the  single  word  "CROATAN"  carved 
on  a  tree.  Historians  have  speculated  upon  the  fate  of  the  lost 
colony  of  Roanoke  and  of  Virginia  Dare,  but  no  satisfactory 
solution  has  ever  been  given  of  the  mystery. 

Such  benefits  had  flowed  from  the  marriage  of  Pocahontas 
that  good  Governor  Dale  piously  ascribing  it  to  the  Divine 
approval  which  rested  on  the  conversion  of  the  heathen,  and 
reflecting  that  another  daughter  of  Powhatan  would  form  an 
additional  pledge  of  peace,  sent  Hamor  and  the  interpreter, 
Thomas  Savage,  to  Powhatan,  for  the  purpose  of  securing 
another  daughter  for  himself.  At  the  town  of  Matchcat,  farther 
up  the  river  than  Werowocomoco,  from  which  the  emperor  had 
removed  on  account  of  the  proximity  of  the  English,  the  visitors 
were  received.  The  emperor  seemed  glad  to  see  Savage,  and 
invited  him  to  his  house.  After  a  pipe  of  tobacco  had  been 
passed  around,  Powhatan  inquired  anxiously  about  his  daugh 
ter's  welfare,  "  her  marriage,  his  unknown  son,  and  how  they 
liked,  lived,  and  loved  together."  Hamor  answered  that  Rolfe 
was  very  well,  and  "  his  daughter  so  well  content  that  she  would 
not  change  her  life  to  return  and  live  with  him,  whereat  he 
laughed  heartily,  and  said  he  was  very  glad  of  it." 

Powhatan  then  desired  to  know  the  reason  of  the  unex 
pected  visit.  Hamor  said  his  message  was  private,  and  he 
desired  no  one  to  be  present.  The  emperor  at  once  ordered  the 
room  cleared  of  all  except  the  inevitable  pair  of  queens  who  sat 
on  either  side  of  the  monarch.  As  a  propitiatory  introduction 
to  the  subject,  Hamor  delivered  a  message  of  "  love  and  peace," 
supplementing  it  with  presents  of  coffee,  beads,  combs,  fish 
hooks,  and  knives,  and  a  promise  of  the  long-wished-for  grind- 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PO  WHAT  AN.  59 

stone,  whenever  Powhatan  would  send  for  it.  Hamor  then  pro 
ceeded  to  speak  of  the  great  reputation  for  beauty  and  attract 
iveness  which  Powhatan's  youngest  daughter  bore,  of  the  desire 
of  Pocahontas  to  have  her  sister's  companionship,  of  Governor 
Dale's  intention  to  remain  permanently  in  Virginia,  and  his 
desire,  in  case  the  young  lady  proved  to  be  all  that  was  reported 
of  her,  to  make  her  his  "nearest  companion,  wife,  and  bed 
fellow."  Such  an  alliance,  Hamor  represented,  would  be  an 
honor  to  all  concerned,  and  would  form  a  new  bond  of  alliance 
and  friendship. 

When  Hamor  had  finished,  the  emperor  gracefully  acknowl 
edged  the  compliment,  but  protested  that  his  daughter  had 
been  three  days  married  to  a  certain  one  of  his  .kings.  Hamor 
replied  that  this  was  nothing,  that  the  groom  would  readily 
relinquish  her  for  the  ample  presents  which  Governor  Dale 
would  make,  and  further,  that  the  emperor  might  easily  exert 
his  authority  to  reclaim  his  daughter  on  some  pretext.  To  this 
base  proposition  the  old  monarch  made  an  answer,  of  which  the 
nobility  and  purity  might  have  put  to  shame  the  brazen  Hamor. 
He  confessed  that  his  real  objection  was  the  love  he  bore  to  his 
daughter,  who  was  dearer  to  him  than  his  own  life ;  that  though 
he  had  many  children,  none  delighted  him  as  much  as  she ;  that 
he  could  not  live  unless  he  saw  her  every  day  during  the  few 
remaining  years  of  his  life,  which  he  could  not  do  if  she  went  to 
live  with  the  English,  as  he  was  resolved  never  to  put  himself 
in  their  power  by  visiting  them.  He  desired  no  other  pledge 
of  friendship  than  the  one  already  existing  in  the  marriage  of 
his  Pocahontas,  unless  she  should  die,  in  which  case  he  would 
give  up  another  child.  Finally,  he  urged  with  vehement  and 
pathetic  eloquence,  "  I  hold  it  not  a  brotherly  part  for  your 
king  to  endeavor  to  bereave  me  of  my  two  darling  children  at 
once.  Give  him  to  understand  that,  if  he  had  no  pledge  at  all, 
he  need  not  distrust  any  injury  from  me  or  my  people.  There 
hath  been  already  too  much  of  blood  and  war.  Too  many  of 
my  people  and  of  his,  have  already  fallen  in  our  strife,  and  by 


60  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

my  occasion  there  shall  never  be  any  more.  I,  who  have  power 
to  perform  it,  have  said  it ;  no,  not  though  I  should  have  just 
occasion  offered,  for  I  am  now  grown  old  and  would  gladly 
end  .my  few  remaining  days  in  peace  and  quiet.  Even  if  the 
English  should  offer  me  injury,  I  would  not  resent  it.  My 
country  is  large  enough,  and  I  would  remove  myself  farther 
from  you.  I  hope  this  will  give  satisfaction  to  your  king. 
He  can  not  have  my  daughter.  If  he  is  not  satisfied,  I  will 
move  three  days'  journey  farther  from  him,  and  never  see 
Englishmen  more." 

His  speech  was  ended.  The  barbarian's  hall  of  state  was 
silent.  The  council  fire,  unreplenished,  had  burned  low  during 
the  interview,  and  the  great,  crackling  logs  lay  reduced  to  a 
dull  heap  of  embers,  fit  symbol  of  the  aged  monarch  who  had 
just  spoken;  within  their  midst  still  burned  the  glowing  heart 
of  fire,  but  more  and  more  feebly,  while  over  all  the  white  and 
feathery  ashes  were  weaving  the  shroud  of  death.  Call  him 
a  savage,  but  remember  that  his  shining  love  for  his  daughter 
only  throws  into  darker  shadow  the  infamous  proposition  of 
the  civilized  Englishman  to  tear  away  the  three  days'  bride 
from  the  arms  of  her  Indian  lover,  and  give  her  to  a  man 
who  had  already  a  wife  in  England.  Call  him  a  barbarian,  but 
forget  not  that,  when  his  enemies  hungered  he  had  given  them 
food.  When  his  people  were  robbed,  whipped,  and  imprisoned 
by  the  invaders  of  his  country,  he  had  only  retaliated,  and 
had  never  failed  to  buy  the  peace,  to  which  he  was  entitled 
without  money  and  without  price.  Call  him  a  heathen,  but  do 
not  deny  that  when  he  said  that,  if  the  English  should  do 
him  an  injury,  he  would  not  resent  it,  but  only  move  farther 
from  them,  he  more  nearly  followed  the  rule  of  the  Master, 
of  whom  he  was  ignorant,  than  did  the  faithless,  pilfering 
adventurers  at  the  fort,  who  rolled  their  eyes  heavenward  and 
called  themselves  CHRISTIANS. 

In  1616  John  Rolfe  and  Pocahontas  went  to  England, 
taking  several  Indians  with  them.  Here  Rolfe  well-nigh  got 

\ 

i 

\ 


THE  LEGEND  OF  PO  WHAT  AN.  61 

into  trouble  over  his  marriage.  The  intelligent  King  James, 
the  same  who  wanted  his  minister  to  procure  him  a  flying- 
squirrel,  because  he  was  "  so  well  affected  to  such  toys,"  took 
it  into  his  limited  head  that  Rolfe,  a  private  gentleman,  by 
marrying  into  the  imperial  family  of  Powhatan,  had  committed 
high  treason.  The  "  anointed "  pedant  was  deeply  offended, 
and  insisted  that  Rolfe  meant  to  claim  the  Virginia  dominion 
as  his  wife's  heritage,  and  have  the  crown  descend  to  his  pos 
terity.  His  counselors  succeeded  with  difficulty  in  showing 
him  how  far-fetched  the  notion  was.  The  Lady  Rebecca,  as 
Pocahontas  was  called  in  England,  received,  for  a  little  while, 
considerable  attention.  The  aristocracy  ventured  to  patronize 
her  slightly  on  account  of  her  rank.  She  was  received  by 
the  king  and  queen,  taken  to  the  theaters,  and  called  on  by 
several  of  the  nobility.  Captain  Smith,  busy  with  other  mat 
ters,  did  not  see  her  for  some  time,  but  either  to  help  Pocahon 
tas  or  draw  attention  to  himself,  wrote  the  queen  a  letter,  in 
which  he  gave  a  brief  and  spirited  account  of  the  many  kind 
nesses  which  Pocahontas  had  bestowed  on  the  colony,  and 
earnestly  requesting  that  she  receive  the  royal  favor  and  atten 
tion  while  in  England. 

In  a  little  while,  however,  Pocahontas  seems  to  have  been 
neglected.  The  novelty  wore  off.  After  the  first  weeks  of  her 
visit  she  was  no  longer  spoken  of  as  the  wife  of  Rolfe  at  all. 
Either  on  account  of  the  London  smoke  or  the  neglect  of  the 
Virginia  company,  she  was  staying  at  Branford.  Smith  relates 
the  story  of  a  singular  interview  which  he  had  with  her  here. 
After  a  modest  salutation,  she,  without  a  word,  turned  her  back 
to  him,  and  passionately  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  At 
length  she  broke  forth  with  pathetic  reproaches,  recalling  the 
old  scenes  at  the  colony,  and  her  sacrifices  for  the  English, 
how  he  had  called  Powhatan  "father"  when  he  was  a  stranger 
in  a  strange  land,  yet  how,  now  that  their  positions  were 
reversed,  he  neglected  her  and  objected  to  her  calling  him 
"  father."  She  said  that  after  his  departure  the  English  always 


62 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


told  her  he  was  dead,  yet  Powhatan  had  commanded  those  of 
her  people  that  were  with  her  to  search  for  Smith,  and  find  out 
whether  he  was  living,  "because  your  countriemen  will  lie 

much."  The  rea 
son  of  her  conduct 
is  obscure.  Many 
have  thought  that 
Rolfe  had  told  her 
Smith  was  dead, 
because  she  was 
resolved  never  to 
marry  to  any  one 
as  long  as  he  was 
alive.  It  is  not  im 
possible  that  she 
had  loved  him, 
and  was  deeply 
grieved  to  find 
the  trick  which 
had  been  played 
Up0n  her.  More 
likely  she  was 
homesick,  and,  grieved  to  find  the  English  no  longer  paid  her 
any  attention,  was  deeply  sensitive  to  Smith's  neglect,  in  not 
visiting  her  earlier  and  renewing  their  old  acquaintance. 

Among  the  Indians  who  accompanied  Pocahontas  was  Toco- 
moco,  her  brother-in-law,  who  was  sent  by  Powhatan  to  take 
the  number  of  people  in  England,  and  bring  an  account  of  their 
strength  and  resources.  When  he  arrived  at  Plymouth  he  got 
him  a  long  stick,  and  began  to  cut  a  notch  in  it  for  every 
person  he  met.  But  he  soon  wearied  of  the  endless  task,  and 
threw  away  the  stick.  When  he  was  asked  by  Powhatan  on 
his  return,  how  many  Englishmen  there  were,  he  said:  "Count 
the  stars  in  the  sky,  the  leaves  on  the  trees,  and  the  sand  on 
the  sea-shore  ;  for  such  is  the  number  of  people  in  England." 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  63 

This  same  savage  accidentally  met  Captain  Smith  in  London, 
where  their  old  acquaintance  was  renewed.  He  at  once  begged 
Smith  to  show  him  his  God,  king,  queen,  and  prince,  about 
whom  Smith  had  told  him  so  much.  Smith  put  him  off  the 
best  he  could  about  showing  his  God,  but  told  him  he  had 
already  seen  the  king,  and  the  others  he  should  see  when  he 
liked.  The  Indian  stoutly  denied  having  seen  the  king,  James 
not  coming  up  to  his  notion  of  the  ruler  of  such  a  people. 
When  convinced  that  he  had  really  seen  the  king,  he  said,  with 
a  melancholy  countenance :  "  You  gave  Powhatan  a  white  dog, 
which  he  fed  as  himself;  but  your  king  has  given  me  not  a 
mouthful  nor  a  present;  yet  I  am  better  than  your  white  dog." 

In  May,  1617,  Rolfe,  who  had  been  appointed  secretary  of 
Virginia,  with  his  wife  and  child,  prepared  to  return  to  America. 
They  were  on  board  their  ship,  which  was  detained  a  few  days 
in  the  Thames  by  contrary  winds.  During  this  delay  the  lovely 
Pocahontas  was  taken  ill,  and,  after  an  illness  of  three  days, 
died,  in  a  stranger's  land. 

Thus  ends  one  of  the  briefest  and  loveliest  romances  to  be 
found  in  all  literature.  Amid  the  darkness  of  baii)arism  and 
savagery,  bloomed  the  rare  and  delicate  nature  of  Pocahontas,  a 
wild  rose  in  the  rocky  cleft  of  black  precipices  and  gloomy 
mountains.  She  seemed  born  for  a  different  sphere  than  that 
in  which  she  was  placed.  The  brutality  of  her  people  was 
wholly  absent  from  her  affectionate  heart.  She  took  naturally 
to  the  civilization  which  she  so  little  understood.  Whatever 
motives  may  have  influenced  her  in  her  adoption  of  Christianity, 
it  is  on  record  that  she  "lived  civilly  and  lovingly"  with  her 
husband.  From  the  first  she  had  no  fear  of  the  English,  going 
freely  to  their  fort  and  on  board  their  ships.  Nearly  every  one 
in  the  colony  had  some  favor,  bestowed  in  the  days  of  her 
frolicsome  visits  to  Jamestown,  for  which  to  remember  her. 
On  all  occasions  she  was  their  friend,  supplying  them  with  pro 
visions,  concealing  them  from  her  father,  and  aiding  them  to 
escape.  Her  influence  over  her  father  was  unceasingly  exerted 


64 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


in  behalf  of  the  strangers.  Modern  criticism  has  regarded  some 
of  the  stories  told  of  her  as  romances.  But  after  disentangling 
the  flower  from  all  the  weeds  and  mosses  of  legend  which  may 
have  sprung  up  around  it,  the  beautiful,  affectionate  nature,  the 

refined  manners,  and  apt  in 
telligence  of  the  Indian  prin 
cess,  remain  in  all  their  lily- 
like  freshness  and  fragrance. 
Her  early  death,  though  sad 
enough,  was  perhaps  fortu 
nate,  both  for  her  and  for  her 
II  history.  As  to  herself,  had 
f.  she  lived,  her  keen  intelli 
gence  would  have  learned  to 
understand  more  and  more 
fully  the  difference  between, 
her  people  and  the  English, 
a  knowledge  which  would 
have  brought  only  pain  and 
sorrow  to  her  loving  heart. 
And  as  for  her  history,  her 
early  death  has  left  us  only 
her  portrait  in  the  perfect  bloom  of  youth,  a  youth  which  has 
been  made  immortal  by  the  pens  of  countless  historians. 

In  1618  died  the  great  Powhatan,  "full  of  years  and 
satiated  with  fightings  and  the  delights  of  savage  life."  He  is 
a  prominent  character  in  the  early  history  of  our  country,  and 
well  does  he  deserve  it.  In  his  prime  he  had  been  proportion 
ally  to  his  surroundings,  as  ambitious  as  Julius  Caesar,  and  not 
less  successful.  He  had  enlarged  his  dominions  by  conquest  to 
many  times  their  original  size,  and  had  spread  the  terror  of  his 
arms  over  a  vast  extent  of  country.  He  had  many  towns  and 
residences,  and  over  a  hundred  wives.  In  his  government  he 
was  despotic  and  cruel.  Offenders  were  beaten  to  death  before 
him,  or  tied  to  trees  and  torn  limb  from  limb,  or  broiled  to 
death  on  red-hot  coals. 


POCAHONTAS. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  65 

His  people  had  a  sort  of  religion,  with  priests,  temples,  and 
images,  but  "  the  ceremonies  seemed  not  worship,  but  propitia 
tions  against  evil,"  and  they  appear  to  have  had  no  conception 
of  an  overruling  power  or  of  an  immortal  life.  Their  notions 
of  personal  adornment  were  very  decided,  if  not  pleasing.  Oil 
and  paints  were  daubed  all  over  the  person.  Their  ears  had 
large  holes  bored  in  them,  in  which  were  hung  bones,  claws, 
beads,  "and  some  of  their  men  there  be  who  will  weare  in 
these  holes  a  small  greene-and-yellow  coloured  live  snake,  neere 
half  a  yard  in  length,  which  crawling  and  lapping  itself  about 
his  neck,  oftentimes  familiarly  he  suffreeth  to  kiss  his  lips. 
Others  wear  a  dead  ratt  tyed  by  the  tayle." 

In  his  last  days  Powhatan  much  feared  a  conspiracy,  between 
his  brother  Opechancanough  and  the  English,  to  overthrow  his 
government,  to  prevent  which  his  diplomacy  was  carefully  exer 
cised.  There  is  much  that  is  pathetic  in  the  close  of  his  career, 
his  dominions  overrun  with  strangers,  his  well-beloved  daughter 
sleeping  her  last  sleep  in  a  foreign  land,  and  himself,'  no  longer 
opposing  armed  resistance  to  the  English,  which  he  was  shrewd 
enough  to  see  must  in  the  long  run  result  in  the  extermination 
of  his  people,  but  simply  "  moving  farther  from  them." 

It  would  be  unjust  to  the  man,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for 
the  story  of  Powhatan  and  his  lovely  daughter,  to  close  this 
account  without  referring  briefly  to  his  career  after  leaving  Vir 
ginia.  He  was  forever  after  a  hobbyist  on  America.  He  was 
always  laboring  to  get  up  new  expeditions,  of  which  he  should 
have  command.  Once  he  did  go  to  New  England,  and  as  usual, 
met  with  thrilling  adventures.  But  he  was  pursued  by  the  same 
ill  luck  which  had  been  his  evil  star.  His  ambitious  plans  were^ 
never  fulfilled,  or,  if  he  did  get  men  to  invest  in  his  enterprises, 
they  always  met  with  disaster  and  ruin.  Smith  had  the  great 
good  fortune  to  be  his  own  historian.  He  took  care  to  tell  his 
own  story,  and  he  told  it  well,  making  himself  the  center  of 
every  scene.  He  was  a  graphic  writer,  full  of  wit,  and  his 
pages,  though  crude  in  style  and  bungled  in  arrangement,  are 
the  most  interesting  chronicles  of  his  time. 


66  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Smith  was  a  prolific  author.  His  first  work  was  "  The  True 
Relation,"  written  by  him,  while  in  America,  narrating  the  history 
and  condition  of  the  colony,  published  in  London,  1608.  In  1612 
he  published  his  "  Map  of  Virginia  and  Description  of  the  Coun 
try."  This  map  shows  that  he  had  a  fine  eye  for  topographical 
outline.  Other  works  were  "A  Description  of  New  England," 
1616;  "New  England's  Trials,"  1620;  "The  General  Historic," 
1624,  with  three  later  editions.  He  wrote  also  "A  Sea  Gram 
mar"  and  several  other  books,  which  went  over  the  same  ground 
of  his  own  adventures  and  the  history  of  the  Jamestown  colony. 
These  books  were  written  and  published  by  him  at  his  own 
expense.  He  distributed  them  gratuitously  in  large  numbers, 
solely  with  a  view  to  exciting  interest  about  America,  and  help 
ing  him  in  working  up  his  plans. 

Reading  between  the  lines,  we  see  a  man  of  strong  nature, 
full  of  conceit,  of  manners  disagreeable  because  egotistical,  impa 
tient  of  opposition,  and  insufferably  fond  of  talking  about  and 
magnifying  his  own  adventures.  Yet  he  was  no  ordinary  char 
acter.  The  very  rashness  and  impulsiveness  which  he  mani 
fested  in  England  made  him  fertile  in  expedients  in  fighting 
Powhatan.  The  very  strength  of  his  dictator-like  intellect, 
which  gained  him  the  hate  of  the  Jamestown  colonists,  whether 
of  lower  or  equal  rank,  caused  him  to  achieve  success  with  the 
savages  and  keep  the  storehouse  of  the  fort  full  of  corn.  His 
great  energy  expending  itself  on  the  one  hobby  of  working  up 
expeditions  to  America,  no  doubt,  made  him  to  some  extent  a 
nuisance  in  England,  after  he  was  discountenanced  and  insulted 
by  the  Virginia  company.  But  that  Smith  was  a  smart  man,  of 
rare  force  and  ingenuity,  far  ahead  of  his  age  in  foreseeing  the 
future  greatness  of  America,  and  possessing  executive  ability  of  a 
high  order,  must  be  conceded.  He  came,  in  time,  to  regard  him 
self  as  the  originator  of  all  the  discoveries  and  colonizations  of 
his  busy  age,  mentioning  the  Virginia  colony  as  "my  colony," 
and  in  relating  the  story  of  an  expedition,  of  which  he  was 
only  a  private  in  the  rear  rank,  saying,  "/  took  ten  men  and 


THE  LEGEND  OF  POWHATAN.  69 

went  ashore,"  "/  ordered  the  boats  to  be  lowered,"  and  so  forth. 
His  swaggering  rhetoric  brings  a  smile  to  the  face  of  the  reader. 
His  latest  and  best  biographer  says  :  "  If  Shakespeare  had  known 
him,  as  he  might  have  done,  he  would  have  had  a  character 
ready  to  his  hand  that  would  have  added  one  of  the  most  amus 
ing  and  interesting  portraits  to  his  gallery.  He  faintly  suggests 
a  moral  Falstaff,  if  we  can  imagine  a  Falstaff  without  vices." 
Smith  was  not  only  a  good  Churchman,  but  a  good  man.  His 
private  life,  passed  amid  the  roughest  characters  and  surround 
ings,  was  upright  and  pure.  He  was  never  heard  to  use  an  oath. 
In  spite  of  his  incessant  efforts,  by  writing  books,  making 
speeches,  and  addressing  letters  with  offers  of  his  services,  to 
colonization  societies,  Smith  was  compelled  to  remain  a  mere 
spectator  of  the  rapid  settlement  of  the  New  World.  Though 
out  of  money  and  out  of  reputation,  his  buoyant  spirits  never 
sunk.  He  was  a  Micawber,  always  expecting  something  to  turn 
up,  or  better  yet,  a  Colonel  Mulberry  Sellers,  who  was  never 
without  a  scheme  with  "  millions  in  it."  Hardship  and  disap 
pointment  made  him  prematurely  old,  if  it  did  not  make  him 
unhappy.  His  last  years  were  spent  in  poverty-stricken  seclu 
sion,  a  "prince's  mind  imprisoned  in  a  pauper's  purse,"  as  was 
said  of  him  by  a  friend.  Fed  by  his  "great  expectations,"  he 
held  up  his  head  to  the  end.  Almost  his  last  act  was  to  make 
his  will  in  due  form,  pompously  disposing  to  Thomas  Parker, 
Esq.,  of  "all  my  .houses,  lands,  tenements,  and  hereditaments 
whatsoever."  They  were  located  only  in  his  fancy.  When  the 
instrument  was  duly  drawn,  he,  who  had  written  so  many  books, 
could  only  make  his  mark.  The  end  had  come.  On  June  21, 
1631,  being  fifty-two  years  old,  he  passed  away.  He  lived  and 
died  a  bachelor.  He  was  wedded  to  his  love  of  adventure. 
While  there  is  much  about  him  at  which  to  laugh,  there  is  more 
which  begets  admiration  and  sympathy  for  him  who  called  him 
self,  on  the  title-pages  of  his  books,  the  "  sometime  Governor 
of  Virginia  and  Admiral  of  New  England." 


70 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

THE    TRIALS    OF    LA    SALLE. 

OBERT   CAVALIER   DE  LA  SALLE   is    one 

of  the  loneliest  characters  of  history.  His  life 
was  a  struggle  between  Will  and  Fate.  He 
was  a  Frenchman,  the  descendant  of  a  wealthy 
family  of  Rouen.  While  but  a  child  his  love 
of  study,  his  dislike  of  amusements,  his  serious 
energy,  caused  his  family  to  select  for  him  a 
career  in  the  Church.  His  education  was  care 
fully  attended  to  by  the  great  "  Society  of  Jesus,"  of  which  he 
became  a  member.  But  while  La  Salle  was  at  first  attracted 
to  the  Jesuits  by  their  marvelous  discipline,  their  concentrated 
power,  their  unequaled  organization,  his  strong  nature,  as  he 
approached  manhood,  rebelled  at  the  vast  machine  of  which  he 
was  only  a  part.  He  found  himself,  not  at  the  center,  but  at 
the  circumference  of  power.  He  left  them.  By  the  laws  of 
the  order,  the  fortune  left  him  by  his  father  had  become  the 
property  of  the  "  Society."  Impoverished,  but  ambitious,  La 
Salle,  a  young  man  of  twenty-three  years,  in  1666,  turned  his 
back  on  the  splendors  and  achievements  of  France  in  the  reign 
of  Le  Grand  Monarque,  to  seek  his  fortune  among  the  wilder 
nesses  of  America. 

His  destination  was  Montreal.  An  association  of  priests 
called  the  Seminary  of  St.  Sulpice,  were  the  feudal  proprietors 
of  the  entire  region.  The  priests  were  granting  out  their  lands 
on  easy  terms  to  any  who  would  form  a  settlement.  La  Salle 
at  once  arranged  for  a  large  tract  of  land,  eight  miles  above 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  71 

Montreal,  at  the  place  now  called  La  Chine.  The  location  was 
exposed  and  dangerous,  but  eligible  for  the  fur  trade.  Here  he 
marked  out  a  palisaded  village,  platted  the  land  within  the  pali 
sade  into  lots  containing  a  third  of  an  acre  each,  and  without  the 
palisade  into  forty-acre  fields.  These  tracts  he  rented  out  for 
a  small,  annual  rent  to  tenants.  He  built  a  comfortable  house 
for  himself,  and  a  small  fort.  The  little  settlement  of  which  he 
was  the  feudal  lord  grew  and  flourished.  At  evening  La  Salle 
would  look  out  over  the  tranquil  waters  of  Lake  St.  Louis,  and 
as  his  imagination  dwelt  on  the  lonely  world  stretching  ever 
toward  the  sunset,  the  great  purpose  of  its  exploration  took 
shape  in  his  mind.  The  Indians  who  came  to  trade  with  him 
told  him  of  a  great  river  in  the  West,  but  of  its  destination  they 
were  ignorant.  The  dream  of  the  age,  a  passage  to  the  South 
Sea,  was  realized,  if  this  river  emptied  into  the  Southern  or 
Pacific  Ocean.  So  the  restless  La  Salle  sold  his  seignory  back 
to  the  priests  of  St.  Sulpice,  and  with  the  money  bought  canoes 
and  supplies  for  an  expedition. 

The    Sulpitians  were  envious  of  their  more   famous  .rivals, 
the  Jesuits.      The   latter  had  long  excluded  every  rival  from 
missionary  labors  among   the  Indians.     They  threaded  forests, 
swam  rivers,  endured  hunger,  cold,  and  disease   to    follow  the 
Indian  to  his  wigwam.    With  deathless  pertinacity,  they  learned 
hideous  languages,  lived  on  nauseous  food,  and  dared  the  flames 
of  torture,  to  tell  the  story  of  their  religion.     No  sacrifice  was 
too  great,  no  enterprise  too  hazardous,  no  suffering  too  severe  to 
deter  them  from  their  great  object — the  conversion  of  the  sav 
ages.    Everywhere  these  heroic  priests  had  preceded  the  march 
of   civilization.      Twenty   years    before   the   saintly  Marquette 
floated  down  the  Mississippi,  a  Jesuit  establishment  was  located 
on  its  banks.     When  the  Hurons,  among  which  they  labored  so 
long,  were  driven  from  their  homes  by  the  resistless  arms  of  the 
Five  Nations,  the  priests  shared  their  sufferings  and  exile.    Long 
before  any  other  white  men,  they  had  traversed  the  great  lakes 
and  unfurled  the  banner  of  the  cross  on  their  farthest  shores. 


72  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

For  all  this  wasted  heroism  the  rewards  seem  meager 
enough.  Now  and  then  a  savage,  attracted  by  some  beads, 
would  allow  himself  to  be  baptized ;  but,  as  one  chronicler  says, 
"  an  Indian  would  be  baptized  ten  times  a  day  for  a  pint  of 
brandy."  Sometimes  the  priests  were  edified  by  seeing  a  war 
rior  throw  a  piece  of  tobacco  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  as  a  sym 
bol  of  worship.  "  I  have  been  amply  rewarded,"  says  one  of 
these  fathers,  after  being  fed  by  his  hosts  for  six  days  on  some 
nauseous,  boiled  lichen  and  a  piece  of  old  moccasin,  "  for  all  my 
sufferings.  I  have  this  day  rescued  from  the -burning  a  dying 
infant,  to  whom  its  mother  allowed  me  to  administer  the  sacred 
rites  of  baptism,  and  who  is  now,  thank  God,  safe  from  that 
dreadful  destiny  which  befalls  those  who  die  without  the  pale 
of  our  most  holy  Church." 

The  Sulpitians,  envying  the  Jesuits,  aided  La  Salle  in  his 
efforts,  and  also  fitted  out  an  expedition  of  their  own  to  join 
him,  hoping  to  find  fields  for  their  own  missionary  zeal.  This 
double-headed  expedition  was  ill-suited  to  the  imperious  will  of 
La  Salle.  After  weeks  of  travel  the  priests  resolved  to  direct 
their  course  to  Lake  Superior.  La  Salle  warned  them  that  they 
would  find  the  field  preoccupied  by  the  Jesuits.  La  Salle's 
goal  was  the  Ohio,  which  his  Indian  friends  had  confounded 
with  the  Mississippi.  The  two  expeditions  separated.  The 
priests  traversed  the  great  lakes,  and  met  with  many  hardships, 
only  to  find  La  Salle's  prediction  true.  One  night  a  storm 
swept  their  baggage,  containing  their  altar  service,  into  the 
lake.  This  they  took  to  be  the  work  of  the  Devil,  to  prevent 
their  having  mass.  Soon  afterward  they  found  a  stone  idol  in 
the  forest,  which  inspired  their  highest  resentment.  Hungry 
and  petulant,  they  attacked  the  thing  with  fury,  broke  it  up, 
and  dumped  the  fragments  in  the  lake.  This  pious  exploit  was, 
as  they  said,  divinely  rewarded  by  a  bear  and  a  deer,  killed  the 
same  day.  They  returned  to  Montreal  without  having  made  a 
convert  or  a  discovery. 

La  Salle's  men  had  mostly  deserted  him,  and  returning  to 


STARVING  INDIANS  AT  THE  STOCKADE  OF  QUEBEC. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  75 

his  old  settlement,  called  it  La  Chine  in  derision  of  his  phantom 
idea  of  a  passage  to  China.  With  one  companion,  he  pushed 
on  to  the  south,  discovered  the  Ohio  River,  and  descended 
it  to  the  falls  at  Louisville,  Kentucky.  Here  his  guide  deserted 
him,  and  La  Salle  made  his  way  back  to  Montreal  alone.  In 
the  following  year  he  made  a  similar  trip  to  Lake  Michigan,  and 
discovered  the  Illinois  River. 

The  information  gained  on  these  trips  and  from  the  Indians, 
together  with  vague  rumors  among  the  Jesuits,  gradually  cre 
ated  a  belief  by  La  Salle,  that  the  Mississippi  flowed  into  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico.  His  fertile  mind  mapped  out  the  vast  scheme 
of  discovery  and  conquest,  to  the  accomplishment  of  which  he 
devoted  the  remainder  of  his  life.  History  has  no  parallel  for 
his  labors.  His  idea  was  to  explore  the  Mississippi,  build  a 
chain  of  French  forts  from  the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf,  command  the 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi  with  a  fortress  which  should  be  the 
key  to  the  continent.  The  great  river  should  be  open  only  to 
the  navies  of  France.  The  vast  interior  domain  of  the  conti 
nent  should  become  a  new  empire  for  Louis  XIV  to  govern. 

England  should  be  confined  to  the  strip  of  sea  coast  east  of 
the  Alleghanies ;  Spain  to  Florida,  Mexico,  and  South  America. 
The  trade  with  Indians  for  furs  and  hides,  opened  up  through 
the  whole  interior  of  the  continent,  from  the  base  line  of  the 
Mississippi  and  the  chain  of  forts,  would  enrich  France  beyond 
the  scope  of  the  imagination;  and  this  was  but  the  prelude  to 
the  great  empire  which  La  Salle  foresaw  was  destined  to  flourish 
between  the  Alleghanies  and  the  Rockies,  the  Lakes  and  the 
Gulf.  The  Jesuits  might  hold  undisputed  sway  in  frozen  Canada. 
It  was  for  him  to  discover  and  control  the  rich  and  beautiful 
Mississippi  valley. 

In  1672  the  Count  de  Frontenac  became  governor  of  New 
France.  He  was  a  bold  and  ambitious  man,  with  many  points 
of  resemblance  to  La  Salle.  The  latter,  nursing  his  mighty 
dream  in  the  secrecy  of  his  own  brain,  saw  that  Canada  must 
be  the  basis  for  the  fabric.  From  there  he  must  start,  from 


76  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

there  receive  supplies  and  men.  Nor  could  he  stir  without  the 
permission  of  the  government.  Frontenac  became  the  friend  of 
the  youthful,  but  stern,  and  self-poised  adventurer. 

A  plan  was  formed  between  them,  to  build  a  fort  at  the  spot 
now  occupied  by  Kingston,  near  the  junction  of  Lake  Ontario 
and  the  St.  Lawrence  River.  The  ostensible  reason  was  defense 
against  the  Iroquois.  But  Frontenac  saw  in  it  a  monopoly  of 
trade  and  La  Salle  regarded  it  as  the  first  link  in  the  chain 
which  was  to  bind  America  to  the  throne  of  France. 

The  location  chosen  was  the  territory  of  the  Iroquois,  the 
dreaded  Five  Nations.  This  league  of  Indians,  the  Mohawks, 
Oneidas,  Onondagas,  Cayugas,  and  Senecas,  embraced  the  most 
intelligent,  powerful,  and  warlike  races  on  the  continent.  Orig 
inally  occupying  about  what  is  now  New  York  State,  they  had 
extended  their  all-conquering  arms  over  Pennsylvania,  Ohio, 
Michigan,  Indiana,  and  Illinois,  and  much  of  Canada.  A  thou 
sand  miles  from  their  council  fires  were  brave  but  subjugated 
peoples,  who  held  their  lands  at  the  pleasure  of  their  conquer 
ors,  paid  annual  tribute,  and  prostrated  themselves  before  embas 
sies  of  Iroquois,  who  called  them  dogs  and  spat  in  the  faces  of 
their  proudest  chieftains. 

The  Iroquois  hated  the  French,  who  had  helped  their  Cana 
dian  neighbors  to  defend  themselves  from  the  scourge.  More 
over,  the  English  and  Dutch  furnished  them  arms,  and  made 
them  a  sort  of  police  over  other  tribes.  Many  a  party  of 
Indians  from  the  Lake  Superior  region,  with  its  fleet  of  fur- 
laden  canoes,  was  waylaid  by  the  Iroquois  on  the  way  to  Mon 
treal,  and  either  plundered  or  forced  to  trade  with  the  English 
and  Dutch. 

La  Salle  was  dispatched  to  Onondaga,  where  the  council- 
house  of  the  confederacy  was  located,  to  invite  them  to  a  con 
ference  at  the  site  of  the  proposed  fort.  On  the  appointed  day, 
Frontenac,  in  glittering  armor,  with  a  brilliant  and  formidable 
force  of  French  soldiery,  met  the  assembled  hosts  of  the  Iro 
quois.  By  means  of  alternate  threats,  persuasions,  and  presents, 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  77 

he  obtained  their  consent  to  build  the  fort,  which  was  named 
in  honor  of  himself. 

The  next  step  in  La  Salle's  course  was  to  erect  a  fort  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Niagara  River.  But  it  was  indispensable  to  obtain 
the  sanction  of  the  French  Government.  Fort  Frontenac  had 
been  built  without  any  authority.  Already  strong  influences 
were  at  work  to  have  Louis  XIV  order  it  to  be  torn  down. 
First,  was  the  political  party  in  Canada,  who  had  supported  the 
former  governor,  and  who  became  the  mortal  enemies  of  Fron 
tenac  when  he  supplanted  his  predecessor.  The  political  ani 
mosities  of  Frenchmen  are  the  most  bitter  and  far  reaching  of 
any  people.  When  they  hate,  they  hate.  Another  group  of 
formidable  enemies  were  the  merchants  of  Montreal  and  Quebec. 
They  saw  that  Frontenac  and  La  Salle,  with  their  fort  so  much 
nearer  the  lakes,  the  great  avenue  of  Indian  traffic,  would  have 
a  practical  monopoly  of  the  fur  trade.  The  last,  but  by  no 
means  least,  of  the  enemies  of  the  governor  and  the  dauntless 
La  Salle,  were  the  Jesuits.  La  Salle  was  a  zealous  Catholic, 
but  he  despised  the  Jesuits.  The  latter,  who  had  long  had  a 
monopoly  of  New  France,  were  already  losing  it  in  Lower  Can 
ada.  They  therefore  watched  their  western  missions  with  the 
greatest  jealousy,  and  resented  every  movement  which  tended 
to  open  up  the  great  lakes  to  their  rivals. 

The  first  attack  of  these  dangerous  enemies  on  La  Salle  was 
an  attempt  to  secure  the  destruction  of  Fort  Frontenac.  La 
Salle  was  arranging  to  return  to  France  in  the  fall  of  1674,  in 
order  to  lay  his  projects  before  the  king,  and  resist  these 
intrigues,  when  his  ambition  received  a  powerful  stimulus  from 
the  report  of  Joliet,  who  in  the  spring  of  1673  had  set  out 
with  Father  Marquette,  and  five  boatmen,  to  explore  the  Miss 
issippi,  and  carry  the  Gospel  to  the  countless  tribes  along 
its  banks. 

Marquette  was  the  child  of  an  illustrious  family  of  the 
French  nobility.  Inspired  solely  by  a  sense  of  religious  duty, 
he  had  bidden  farewell  to  the  splendors  of  the  baronial  castle  in 

5 


78  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

which  he  was  born,  to  dwell  among  the  Indians.  Slowly  the 
little  party  made  their  way  through  the  lakes,  up  Green  Bay 
and  Fox  River,  thence  by  many  weary  portages  on  to  the  Missis 
sippi.  The  simple  and  inoffensive  savages,  perhaps  drawn  more 
by  the  gentle  and  saint-like  spirit  of  Marquette  than  by  his 
explanations  of  the  atonement,  received  the  strangers  kindly, 
pressed  on  them  their  best  hospitality,  and  after  many  solicita 
tions  for  them  to  remain,  helped  them  on  their  weary  way. 
At  the  village  of  the  Illinois  the  two  unarmed  Frenchmen  were 
treated  to  a  great  feast.  The  first  course  was  Indian  meal, 
boiled  in  grease,  which  their  host  fed  them  with  a  spoon.  This 
was  followed  by  a  vast  platter  of  fish.  The  host  carefully 
picked  the  bones  from  each  mouthful,  cooled  it  by  blowing, 
and  tucked  it  in  their  mouths  with  his  fingers.  This  excessive 
politeness  seemed  to  destroy  the  Frenchmen's  appetites,  either 
from  embarrassment  or  other  causes,  as  the  remaining  courses 
of  baked  dog  and  buffalo  were  hardly  tasted. 

Day  after  day  the  voyagers  floated  down  the  majestic  river, 
into  the  ever-opening  landscape.  Now  their  eye  swept  over 
boundless  prairies ;  now  they  peered  into  the  perennial  gloom 
of  mighty  forests;  now  they  shuddered  with  alarm  at  the 
imaginary  dangers  of  red  and  green  dragons  and  scaly  monsters, 
painted  by  some  Indian  artist  on  the  dark  background  of  the 
overhanging  bluffs;  now  they  struggled  with  a  more  real  danger 
in  the  mighty  torrent  from  the  Missouri  River,  which  hurled  its 
masses  of  mud  and  uprooted  trees  far  out  into  the  transparent 
depths  of  the  Mississippi.  As  they  proceeded  southward  the 
sun  became  warmer,  the  vegetation  denser,  the  flowers  more 
luxuriant.  Every  evening,  after  hauling  their  canoes  ashore, 
Marquette,  with  clasped  hands,  would  kneel  before  the  "Father 
of  Waters,"  and  pour  out  his  soul  in  prayer  to  the  Infinite.  As  he 
prayed,  a  mild  supernatural  radiance  would  illumine  his  delicate 
and  scholarly  features.  The  spoken  words  would  often  cease, 
but  still  the  slender  black-gowned  figure,  with  hands  lifted,  arid 
face  turned  toward  the  crimson  glories  of  the  dying  day,  con- 


'  '         •  :  '     '        •         ' 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  81 

tinued  kneeling  till  the  black  bannered  armies  of  night  darkened 
all  the  air. 

Seven  hundred  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  the 
voyagers  commenced  to  retrace  their  lonely  way.  After  weeks 
of  toil,  they  made  their  way  back  to  the  Green  Bay  mission. 
Here  Marquette,  sick  and  exhausted  from  the  toils  of  the  expe 
dition,  was  compelled  to  stop,  while  Joliet  carried  to  Montreal 
the  news  of  the  discovery,  and  of  their  firm  belief  that  the 
Mississippi  flowed,  not  into  the  Pacific  Ocean,  but  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico. 

Marquette,  though  feeble  in  health,  after  a  long  repose, 
determined  to  return  to  the  Illinois  Indians,  among  whom  he 
had  promised  to  found  a  mission.  Taking  two  boatmen,  Pierre 
and  Jaques,  he  started  on  the  slow  journey.  Overtaken  by 
winter  and  renewed  sickness,  the  gentle  father  was  compelled  to 
pass  the  winter  in  a  rude  hut  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Michigan. 
Some  branches  from  the  trees  formed  his  bed,  a  log  his  pillow. 
His  earthly  companions  were  filthy  savages,  but  he  had  con 
stantly  present  with  him  a  divine  Companion.  Urged  on  by  love 
and  pity,  he  set  out  amid  the  sleet  and  rain  of  early  spring  toward 
his  destination.  He  was  received  by  the  Illinois  at  their  great 
village,  near  the  site  of  the  present  town  of  Utica,  La  Salle 
County,  Illinois.  Here,  every  morning,  in  a  vast  wigwam,  he 
told  his  breathless  auditors  the  story  of  the  cross. 

At  last  his  failing  health  forced  him  to  leave  his  sorrowful 
Indian  friends.  Slowly  and  wearily,  he  set  out  with  his  two 
faithful  boatmen  on  the  return  trip.  During  the  day  he 
reclined  on  a  rude  pallet  in  the  canoe,  his  face  turned  toward 
the  skies  he  was  so  soon  to  inhabit.  At  night  his  two  com 
panions  would  hastily  build  a  shelter,  gently  lift  and  carry  him 
from  the  boat,  and  then  prepare  the  rough  dish  of  Indian  meal, 
so  ill  suited  to  the  sufferer.  One  evening  Marquette  pointed  to 
a  lonely  eminence  on  the  lake  shore :  "  That  is  the  spot  for  my 
last  repose."  The  encampment  was  made  earlier  than  usual.  It 
was  well.  In  the  darkness  of  the  night,  with  a  crucifix  in  his 


82  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

hand  and  a  prayer  on  his  lips,  the  gentle  spirit  of  Marquette 
exhaled  to  the  skies,  amid  the  sobs  of  his  heart-broken  com 
panions.  There  in  the  wilderness  they  laid  him  to  rest. 
Though  always  called  Father  Marquette,  he  was  just  thirty- 
eight  years  old. 

We  turn  abruptly  from  this  angelic  nature  to  the  iron  figure 
of  La  Salle.  When  Joliet  arrived  at  Montreal  with  the  news 
of  his  discovery,  La  Salle  found  all  of  his  beliefs  as  to  the 
course  of  the  Mississippi  confirmed.  He  at  once  sailed  for 
France,  it  being  the  fall  of  1674.  His  tireless  energy  and 
address  secured  him  an  audience  with  the  great  French 
monarch  himself.  In  strong,  clear  statements  he  explained 
the  necessity  of  the  forts.  His  effort  was  successful.  The 
king  granted  him  the  fort  and  a  large  tract  of  land.  He  was  to 
pay  back  what  the  fort  had  cost  the  king,  and  rebuild  it  in 
stone.  His  friends,  anxious  to  share  his  prosperity,  loaned  him 
money  to  pay  the  king. 

La  Salle  returned  to  Canada  with  his  grant  in  his  pocket. 
From  this  moment  he  was  encircled  by  enemies  who  shadowed 
him  to  his  grave.  The  merchants  and  traders  of  Canada  organ 
ized  into  a  league  to  oppose  him.  The  country  became  a 
hornet-nest  for  him.  Every  weapon  which  malice  could  wield 
or  ingenuity  invent  was  employed  to  strike  him.  The  Jesuits 
procured  an  order  from  France  forbidding  his  traders  to  go  out 
among  the  Indians.  La  Salle  formed  an  Iroquois  settlement 
around  his  fort,  so  that  the  Indians  thereafter  came  to  him. 
When  he  was  at  Quebec,  the  wife  of  his  host  undertook  to  play 
the  part  of  Potiphar's  wife.  La  Salle  quickly  left  the  room  to 
find  the  hall  filled  with  spies,  who  had  expected  to  catch  him 
in  the  baited  trap.  Reports  were  sent  to  his  brother,  the  Abbe 
Cavalier,  a  Sulpitian  priest,  to  the  effect  that  La  Salle  had 
seduced  a  young  girl,  and  was  living  in  gross  immorality.  His 
excommunication  might  have  taken  place,  had  not  his  brother 
visited  him,  only  to  find  him  presiding  over  a  most  exemplary 
household.  A  servant  was  hired  to  put  poison  in  his  food. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  83 

La  Salle  ate  of  the  dish,  and  was  taken  dangerously  ill,  but 
finally  recovered.  Emissaries  were  sent  out  among  the  bloody 
Iroquois,  telling  them  that  the  fort  was  designed  to  aid  in  mak 
ing  war  on  them.  On  the  other  hand,  word  was  sent  through 
many  channels  to  La  Salle  that  the  Iroquois  intended  a  massacre, 
and  Frontenac  was  urged  to  raise  a  force  and  attack  them.  It 
was  with  great  difficulty  that  the  Indians  were  quieted. 

In  spite  of  these  villainous  machinations,  La  Salle's  inflex 
ible  will  was  victorious.  By  the  help  of  Indians,  Fort  Fronte- 
riac  was  rebuilt  of  stone.  Within  its  walls  were  substantial 
barracks,  a  guard  house,  an  officer's  house,  a  forge,  a  well,  a 
mill,  and  a  bakery.  Nine  small  cannon  peeped  through  the 
walls.  A  dozen  soldiers  formed  the  garrison,  and  three  times 
as  many  laborers  and  canoe  men  were  also  inhabitants  of  the 
fort.  Outside  were  a  French  settlement,  an  Iroquois  village,  a 
chapel  and  priest's  house,  a  hundred  acres  of  cleared  land,  and 
a  comfortable  lot  of  live  stock.  Four  forty- ton  vessels  and  a 
fleet  of  canoes  were  built  for  navigating  the  lakes. 

Here  in  this  solitude,  a  week's  journey  from  the  nearest 
settlement,  La  Salle  reigned  with  absolute  power  and  rapidly 
increasing  wealth.  But  La  Salle's  ambition  was  not  gain,  but 
glory.  In  the  autumn  of  1677  he  again  sailed  for  France. 
His  enemies,  growing  more  numerous  and  bitter  all  the  time, 
were  ahead  of  him,  and  denounced  hyn  to  the  government  as  a 
fool  and  madman.  This  was  embarrassing.  The  scheme  he  was 
about  to  propose  was  so  vast  as  to  inspire  distrust  of  his  sanity. 
In  his  memorial  to  the  king,  La  Salle  recited  his  discoveries, 
described  the  great  Mississippi  valley,  predicted  its  future, 
unfolded  its  immense  value  to  France,  enumerated  the  enormous 
difficulties  which  would  attend  its  conquest,  pointed  out  the  anx 
iety  of  the  English  to  possess  it,  outlined  the  plan  of  securing 
it  by  a  vast  chain  of  forts,  artfully  hinted  at  a  chance  to  wrest 
Mexico  from  Spain,  declared  -that  it  was  as  a  basis  for  this 
enterprise  that  he  had  built  Fort  Frontenac,  and  asked  similar 
privileges  for  another  fort  at  the  mouth  of  the  Niagara — the 


84  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

key  to  Lake  Erie.  The  statesmen  of  France  gave  La  Salle 
an  attentive  audience.  They  granted  him  a  royal  patent  allow 
ing  him  to  build  as  many  forts  as  he  chose  on  the  same  terms 
as  Fort  Frontenac,  gave  him  a  monopoly  of  the  trade  in  buffalo 
hides,  and  as  a  crumb  of  comfort  for  the  Jesuits,  forbade  him 
to  trade  in  Upper  Canada  or  the  great  lakes.  This  patent  says 
nothing  of  colonies.  Louis  XIV  was  always  opposed  to  them. 
But  a  military  dominion  over  the  wilderness,  and  a  path  for  the 
invasion  of  Mexico,  suited  him  well.  For  the  accomplishment 
of  this  Titanic  labor  he  gave  La  Salle  five  years  ! 

La  Salle's  imperative  need  was  money.  This  he  borrowed 
in  large  sums  at  ruinous  interest.  These  creditors  lived  to 
change  from  wealthy  friends  to  bankrupted  enemies.  The 
exploration  of  America  cost  untold  fortunes,  thousands  of 
heroic  lives,  and  centuries  of  unrequited  toil  and  hardships. 
Our  debt  to  the  past  is  beyond  computation.  La  Salle  was 
joined  by  the  valued  and  trusted  Henri  de  Tonty,  a  son  of  an 
Italian  banker,  who  invented  Tontine  insurance.  Tonty  had 
lost  a  hand  in  battle.  He  was  the  only  one  of  all  his  followers 
in  whom  La  Salle  could  place  complete  confidence. 

On  his  arrival  in  Canada,  although  it  was  in  the  dead  of 
winter,  La  Salle  pushed  forward  his  enterprise.  Father  Henne- 
pin,  a  Ricollet  friar,  and  La  Motte,  another  ally,  who  had  joined 
La  Salle  in  France,  with  sixteen  men  were  dispatched  from  Fort 
Frontenac  across  the  chopping  waves  of  Erie  as  an  advance 
party.  After  breasting  the  fierce  December  storms,  they  disem 
barked  in  the  snow  at  the  mouth  of  the  Niagara  River,  and 
commenced  to  erect  a  fortified  house.  The  ground  was  thawed 
with  hot  water.  Little  progress  was  made  before  it  became 
evident  that  the  consent  of  the  Iroquois  must  be  obtained.  La 
Motte  failed  in  this,  but  La  Salle,  following  with  supplies  and 
re-enforcements,  appeared  before  the  solemn  council  of  the  Five 
Nations.  Forty- two  stately  chiefs,  arrayed  in  robes  of  black 
squirrel  skin,  listened  to  him  and  received  his  presents.  "  The 
senators  of  Venice,"  wrote  Hennepin,  "  do  not  look  more  grave 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  85 

or  speak  more  deliberately  than  the  counselors  of  the  Iroquois." 
La  Salle's  dexterity  won  their  permission  to  erect  a  fortified 
warehouse  at  the  mouth  of  the  Niagara  River  and  to  build  a 
ship  above  the  Falls.  This  was  a  triumph  over  the  Jesuits,  two 
of  whom  he  found  at  the  Iroquois  capital,  who  spared  no  effort 
to  thwart  his  proceeding. 

But  La  Salle's  enemies  were  just  beginning  to  show  their 
hand.  He  made  his  way  to  the  camp  on  the  Niagara  River, 
only  to  find  that  the  pilot,  to  whom  he  had  intrusted  the  nav 
igation  of  his  vessel,  laden  with  costly  supplies,  tools,  and 
materials  for  building  the  ship  above  the  Falls,  had  wrecked 
her  on  the  rocks,  and  of  all  her  precious  cargo  nothing  but  the 
anchors  and  cables  for  the  new  vessel  had  been  saved.  This 
disaster  was  appalling  and  irreparable,  and,  as  Hennepin  says, 
"would  have  made  any  one  but  La  Salle  give  up  the  enterprise." 
It  became  evident,  too,  that  others  of  his  party,  besides  the 
pilot,  had  been  tampered  with.  They  were  a  motley  crew  of 
French,  Flemings,  and  Italians,  quarrelsome,  discontented,  and 
insubordinate. 

La  Salle,  inflexible  and  silent,  ordered  an  advance.  Formed 
in  single  file,  every  man  heavily  burdened  with  materials  and 
supplies  for  the  new  ship,  the  priest,  Hennepin,  with  his  altar  on 
his  back,  the  procession  stumbled  through  the  deep  snow,  and 
up  the  steep  heights  above  Lewiston.  Six  miles  above  the  Falls, 
in  spite  of  the  terrible  cold,  the  ship  was  begun.  Food  was 
scarce.  The  Iroquois  acted  suspiciously.  A  squaw  told  the 
French  that  they  intended  to  burn  the  vessel  on  the  stocks. 
No  corn  could  be  bought.  Leaving  the  energetic  Tonty  in  com 
mand,  La  Salle  returned  to  the  mouth  of  the  river,  marked  out 
the  foundations  for  the  new  fort,  and  tluen  set  out  on  foot,  with 
two  companions,  for  Fort  Frontenac,  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
away,  a  trip  made  necessary  by  the  loss  of  his  supply  vessel. 
It  was  a  bitter  February.  His  path  lay  through  the  country  of 
the  treacherous  Iroquois,  among  whom  the  Jesuits  were  intrigu 
ing  for  his  destruction.  For  food  he  had  a  small  bag  of  parched 


86  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

corn.  Though  a  long  way  from  the  fort,  the  bag  was  growing 
very  light.  Their  rations  were  reduced  one-half.  This  did  not 
suffice.  They  again  reduced  them  one-half.  One  night  they  ate 
the  last  handful.  Then  they  did  without  eating. 

La  Salle  arrived  at  the  fort  to  find  himself  ruined.  His 
enemies  had  circulated  reports  that  he  was  gone  on  a  hare 
brained  adventure.  Though  his  property  at  Fort  Frontenac  was 
ample  security  for  his  Canada  creditors,  they  had  seized  all 
his  property  of  furs,  ships,  and  corn,  wherever  found.  The 
blow  was  terrific  and  beyond  remedy.  La  Salle  simply  hard 
ened  himself  to  the  shock.  If  any  thing,  his  step  was  more 
haughty,  and  his  mouth  more  stern.  But  he  could  not  allow 
his  foes  to  triumph  by  giving  up  his  enterprise. 

In  August  he  reappeared  on  the  Niagara  River.  He  had 
contrived  to  get  a  few  supplies  in  spite  of  the  vigilance  of  his 
creditors,  and  he  brought  three  more  friars.  Though  he  -hated 
Jesuitism,  he  was  zealous  for  the  faith.  Tonty  had  long  since 
completed  the  Griffin,  as  the  new  ship  was  called.  It  swung 
easily  at  anchor,  so  near  the  shore  that  Hennepin  preached  from 
its  deck  to  the  Indians. 

On  the  seventh  day  of  August,  1679,  amid  the  chant  of  Te 
Deums  and  the  booming  of  cannon,  the  Griffin  spread  her  snowy 
canvas,  and  sped  out  over  the  blue  depths  of  Lake  Erie.  The 
first  few  days  were  lovely.  The  rippling  water  sparkled  in  the 
sunlight;  the  distant  shore  seemed  like  a  delicate  blue  penciling 
upon  the  cloudless  horizon;  the  bulwarks  of  the  Griffin  were 
decorated  with  splendid  game.  On  up  the  Detroit  River  and 
Lake  St.  Glair  into  Lake  Huron,  which  spread  before  them  like 
a  sea,  the  voyagers  held  their  way.  Suddenly  a  terrific  storm 
arose.  The  vessel  shook  like  a  leaf  before  the  fury  of  the  bil 
lows.  La  Salle  and  his  company  cried  aloud  to  all  the  saints, 
some  one  of  whom  it  is  presumed  heard  their  cries,  as  the  storm 
passed  away  and  the  vessel  found  refuge  behind  Point  St. 
Ignace.  La  Salle  lingered  here  at  the  Jesuit  mission  to  find 
his  ever  present  enemies  still  bent  on  his  destruction.  He  had 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  87 

expected  to  have  the  expedition  proceed  from  this  point  in 
canoes,  while  he  returned  in  the  Griffin  with  a  cargo  of  furs  to 
appease  his  creditors.  Such  signs  of  disloyalty  appeared  that 
he  sent  the  Griffin  back  without  him.  It  proved  to  be  a  most 
disastrous  determination. 

The  fleet  of  deep-laden  canoes  were  soon  caught  in  another 
storm.  With  great  difficulty  and  danger  the  explorers  reached 
the  shore,  where  they  remained  a  week,  drenched  by  incessant 
sleet  and  rain.  As  the  tempest  raged  on  the  lake,  La  Salle 
trembled  for  the  Griffin.  Though  sorely  pressed  for  food,  he 
dared  not  camp  near  Indians,  for  fear  some  of  his  men  would 
steal  his  goods  and  desert  to  them.  The  hardships  were  intol 
erable.  Overhead  great  rain  clouds  swept  across  the  sky; 
beneath  raged  an  angry  turmoil  of  tossing  waves.  At  night 
the  heavy  canoes  had  to  be  dragged  by  the  exhausted  and 
hungry  men  through  the  breakers  and  up  the  steep  shores.  One 
morning  foot-prints  were  seen  in  the  soft  mud  and  a  coat  was 
missing.  La  Salle  knew  that  the  theft  must  be  punished.  A 
stray  Indian  was  made  prisoner,  and  La  Salle  went  to  his  peo 
ple  and  told  them  he  would  be  killed  unless  the  coat  was 
returned.  This  was  embarrassing.  The  coat  had  been  cut  up 
and  divided  among  the  Indians.  It  was  a  fight  or  a  compro 
mise.  The  latter  was  effected  by  paying  for  the  coat  in  corn. 

La  Salle  made  his  way  to  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Joseph 
River.  Here  he  was  to  meet  Tonty,  coming  along  the  east  shore 
of  the  lake  from  Michillimackinac.  The  spot  was  wrapped  in 
its  primeval  solitude.  To  wait  for  Tonty  was  dangerous.  Win 
ter  was  setting  in ;  the  men  were  restless ;  yet  La  Salle  said  he 
would  wait,  if  it  was  by  himself.  In  three  weeks  Tonty  arrived. 
One  of  his  canoes  with  guns,  baggage  and  provisions  had  been 
swamped.  Part  of  his  men  had  deserted.  For  many  days  their 
only  food  had  been  acorns.  It  was  time  for  the  Griffin  to  have 
made  her  trip  to  Niagara  and  back  again.  Day  after  day 
La  Salle  scanned  the  horizon,  with  anxious  eye.  No  sail  ap 
peared.  To  delay  longer  was  impossible.  Two  men  were  sent  to 


88  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

meet  it,  while  the  remainder,  thirty-three  in  all,  began  to  force 
their  canoes  up  the  St.  Joseph  River.  They  looked  eagerly  for 
the  trail  which  led  to  the  great  village  of  the  Illinois.  Nowhere 
could  it  be  found.  La  Salle  went  ashore  to  search  for  it.  Night 
came  with  thick  falling  snow,  but  La  Salle  returned  not.  The 
suspense  of  the  party  was  intolerable.  It  was  four  o'clock  the 
next  day  before  he  came  in  sight.  He  had  lost  his  way, 
In  the  night  he  saw  the  gleam  of  a  fire  through  the  forest. 
Hastening  to  it,  he  found,  not  his  camp,  but  a  spot  warm  from 
the  body  of  a  man  who  had  evidently  fled.  Calling  loudly  and 
getting  no  answer,  La  Salle  coolly  lay  down  and  slept  till  morn 
ing.  On  his  return  he  was  greatly  exhausted  from  his  exposure, 
and  slept  in  a  hut  close  to  the  camp-fire.  During  the  night 
the  hut  caught  fire,  and  he  narrowly  escaped  the  flames. 

When  at  last  the  Illinois  trail  was  found,  the  party  shoul 
dered  canoes  and  baggage  for  the  tramp.  One  of  the  men, 
enraged  at  his  hardships,  raised  his  gun  to  shoot  La  Salle 
through  the  back,  but  was  prevented  from  doing  so.  The  great 
Indian  town  of  five  hundred  enormous  lodges  was  reached,  but 
every  wigwam  was  silent  and  empty;  and  the  ashes  of  every 
camp-fire  cold.  The  people  were  absent  on  their  great  hunt. 
Abundant  stores  of  corn  were  found,  but  it  was  a  terrible 
offense  to  touch  it.  La  Salle  felt  that  he  must  have  the  friend 
ship  of  the  Indians  at  any  cost.  The  Jesuit  emissaries  were 
busy  among  the  Iroquois,  inciting  them  to  make  war  on  the 
distant  Illinois,  hoping  by  this  means  that  La  Salle  and  his  for 
lorn  companions  might  be  massacred,  or  at  least  forced  to  aban 
don  their  enterprise.  One  morning,  as  the  little  flotilla  of  canoes 
drifted  down  the  Illinois  River,  the  Indians  of  the  deserted  vil 
lage  came  in  sight.  They  received  the  strangers  as  friends, 
providing  food,  and  rubbing  their  feet  with  bear's  grease.  La 
Salle  made  them  a  speech,  told  them  he  came  to  protect  them 
against  the  Iroquois,  and  intended  to  build  a  great  wooden 
canoe  with  which  to  descend  the  Mississippi  and  bring  them  the 
merchandise  they  so  much  wanted. 


THE  SECRET  NOCTURNAL  COUNCIL. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  91 

One  would  think  that  La  Salle,  in  this  wilderness,  far  remote 
from  the  dwellings  of  men,  would  have  been  free  from  the  pur 
suit  of  his  enemies.  Not  so.  Hate,  like  love,  laughs  at  dis 
tance  and  difficulties.  That  very  night  a  Jesuit  emiss-ary 
reached  the  Indian  camp.  A  secret  nocturnal  council  was  held. 
The  stranger  warned  the  Illinois  that  La  Salle  was  their  enemy, 
an  Iroquois  spy,  soon  to  be  followed  by  the  Iroquois  themselves 
in  all  their  blood-thirstiness.  After  this  speech  he  disappeared 
in  the  forest.  In  the  morning  La  Salle  noticed  the  change  in 
his  hosts.  Distrust  and  malignity  were  depicted  on  every 
savage  face.  Adroitly  learning  the  facts  from  an  Indian  to  whom 
he  had  given  a  hatchet,  he  made  a  bold  speech,  denying  the 
slander,  and  challenging  them  to  set  him  face  to  face  with  his 
traducer.  The  speech  restored  general  confidence.  If  oratory 
is  the  art  of  persuading  men  and  swaying  an  audience,  La 
Salle  was  a  great  orator. 

One  morning,  La  Salle  found  six  of  his  men,  including  two 
of  his  best  shipbuilders,  had  deserted.  It  cut  him  to  the 
quick.  But  this  was  not  all.  A  treacherous  hand  again  placed 
poison  in  his  food.  His  life  hung  in  the  balance  for  hours,  but 
an  antidote  given  by  the  faithful  Tonty  turned  the  wavering 
scale.  Worse  than  all,  it  was  evident  that  the  Griffin ,  the  main 
stay  of  the  whole  enterprise,  was  lost.  Nothing  was  ever  heard 
of  her  again.  Two  men  sent  to  search  for  her,  reported  that 
they  had  made  the  circuit  of  the  lakes  and  found  her  not.  La 
Salle  afterwards  found  evidence  of  her  having  been  deliberately 
sunk  by  the  pilot,  at  the  instance  of  his  enemies.  The  loss  of 
the  Griffin  was  the  severest  blow  yet.  She  carried  anchors, 
cables,  and  equipment  for  the  new  boat  he  was  to  build  on  the 
Mississippi,  as  well  as  costly  supplies.  The  mountain  of  dis 
asters  was  enough  to  break  a  heart  of  stone. 

Did  La  Salle  give  up  ?  No !  He  mocked  at  despair,  and 
instead  of  yielding,  built  a  strong  permanent  fort,  which  he 
called  Fort  Orevecoeur,  or  "Broken-hearted,"  in  very  irony  at 
his  misfortunes.  He  also  commenced  the  great  task  of  building 


92  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  forty-ton  ship  for  the  river.  Trees  had  to  be  felled  and 
laboriously  sawed  into  plank  by  hand.  Yet  in  six  weeks  the 
hull  was  completed  by  men  who  were  not  carpenters.  La  Salle 
induced  Father  Hennepin  to  give  up  his  preaching,  and  render 
some  reluctant  service  by  exploring  the  Illinois  River  to  its 
mouth.  Hennepin,  who  was  a  great  boaster  but  poor  worker, 
tried  to  shirk  the  enterprise,  but  at  last,  with  two  companions 
and  a  canoe  well  filled  with  hatchets,  beads,  and  other  presents 
for  the  Indians,  supplied  at  La  Salle's  own  cost,  started  on 
his  trip.  He  descended  the  Illinois  to  its  mouth,  and  then 
ascended  the  Mississippi,  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Sioux,  and 
after  many  adventures  made  his  way  back  to  Montreal,  and 
thence  to  Europe.  He  at  once  published  an  account  of  his 
travels,  laying  no  claim  to  having  discovered  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi.  Fifteen  years  later,  La  Salle  being  long  since 
dead,  Hennepin  rivaled  our  friend  Captain  John  Smith  by  pub 
lishing  a  new  story  of  his  travels,  in  which  he  claims  to  have 
traversed  the  entire  Mississippi,  and  thus  anticipated  La  Salle 
in  his  chief  work.  The  falsehoods  and  exaggerations  of  the 
book  have  long  since  been  exposed. 

La  Salle's  exploration  could  advance  no  farther  until  the 
precious  articles  for  the  new  ship,  lost  in  the  Griffin,  could  be 
replaced.  The  expedition  was  eating  itself  up  with  expense. 
Its  chief  determined  to  make  his  way  on  foot  through  the  vast 
and  gloomy  wildernesses  which  lay  between  him  and  Montreal, 
in  one  last  effort  to  replace  the  loss.  It  was  equal  to  one  of 
the  labors  of  Hercules — a  journey  of  twelve  hundred  miles, 
through  a  country  which  was  the  perpetual  battle-ground  of 
hostile  and  cruel  savages,  without  food,  sleeping  on  the  open 
ground,  watching  by  night  and  marching  by  day,  carrying  a 
heavy  load  of  blanket,  gun,  ammunition,  hatchet,  kettle,  and 
a  sack  of  parched  corn.  Sometimes  pushing  through  thickets, 
sometimes  climbing  rocks  covered  with  ice  and  snow,  with 
clothing  constantly  wet  from  swimming  a  dozen  rivers  a  day, 
and  wading  for  hours  at  a  time  waist  or  even  neck  deep  in 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  93 

marshes,  exposed  continually  to  attack  from  ravenous  beasts, 
and  to  a  thousand  other  hardships,  toils,  and  dangers.  In  all 
the  journey  there  was  not  a  gleam  of  light  from  a  single  cabin 
window  to  welcome  the  weary  travelers  at  night-fall,  not  a 
white  man's  face  to  cheer  them  amid  the  frightful  and  gloomy 
solitudes  of  unending  forests. 

La  Salle's  companions  were  a  Mohegan  hunter,  who  had 
followed  him  with  ceaseless  fidelity,  and  four  Frenchmen.  Two 
of  the  latter  left  the  party  at  the  point  nearest  Michillimackinac. 
The  terrible  exposures  impaired  the  health  of  the  party.  The 
Mohegan  and  one  Frenchmen  were  taken  ill,  and  were  spitting 
blood.  This  left  La  Salle  and  one  man  in  health.  They  had 
to  provide  for  the  additional  burden  of  the  sick  men. 

But  we  may  not  linger  over  the  tragic  story.  After  sixty- 
five  days  of  unparalleled  sufferings,  the  stone  bastions  of  Fort 
Frontenac  rose  before  their  weary  eyes.  The  unconquerable  will 
and  iron  frame  of  La  Salle,  who  had  been  reared  in  delicate 
luxury,  a  scholar,  whose  career  had  been  marked  out  to  be  that 
of  a  gentle  parish  priest  for  some  rural  flock  in  France,  had 
achieved  the  impossible. 

Poor  La  Salle  had  reached  his  goal,  but  his  long  journey 
had  but  brought  him  to  new  grief.  It  is  almost  too  cruel  to 
record.  Within  a  week  he  had,  by  extraordinary  effort,  in 
spite  of  his  bankruptcy  and  misfortunes,  collected  the  needed 
supplies.  He  was  on  the  point  of  setting  out  on  the  return 
trip  to  his  forlorn  colony  on  the  Illinois,  when  two  messengers 
from  Fort  Crevecoeur  arrived  with  a  letter  from  Tonty.  He 
reported  to  his  stricken  chief  that,  after  his  departure,  the  men 
had  mutinied,  blown  up  the  fort,  plundered  its  stores,  throwing 
into  the  river  all  they  could  not  carry  off,  and  then  deserted. 
All  was  lost.  His  mighty  effort  was  spent.  Yet  he  gave  not  an 
hour  to  his  grief.  Whatever  was  the  inward  conflict,  no  human 
eye  could  pierce  beneath  the  iron  mask  of  his  features.  He 
chose  nine  trusty  and  well-armed  men  and  went  to  meet  the 
mutineers.  Two  canoes  surrendered  at  once.  The  third  showed 


94  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

fight.  Two  of  the  villains  were  killed.  The  remainder  were 
safely  lodged  in  the  dungeon  of  the  fort,  to  await  the  coming 
of  Count  Frontenac.  La  Salle's  enemies  used  the  killing  of  the 
two  mutineers  as  a  basis  for  a  charge  of  murder. 

After  all  his  toil,  the  mighty  dream  of  the  interior  empire 
seemed  wrecked  forever.  But  La  Salle  was  incapable  of  retreat. 
He  seemed  impelled  by  an  inward  force,  as  resistless  as  his  fate 
was  remorseless.  On  the  10th  of  August,  1680,  he  embarked 
again  with  his  succor  for  Tonty.  If  the  latter  could  keep  his 
foothold  on  the  Illinois,  success  might  yet  be  wrested  from 
adversity.  Through  Lakes  Ontario,  Erie,  Huron,  and  Michigan, 
up  the  St.  Joseph  River,  and  down  the  Kankakee,  he  once 
more  took  his  way.  At  every  step  he  found  the  Indians 
prejudiced  against  him  by  the  Jesuits. 

When,  at  last,  they  drew  near  the  meadows  on  which  had 
stood  the  great  village  of  the  Illinois,  with  its  population  of 
eight  thousand  souls,  their  horror-stricken  gaze  met  a  scene  of 
utter  desolation.  Where  once  was  heard  the  busy  hum  of 
human  life,  no  sound,  save  their  own  footsteps,  broke  a  silence 
as  of  the  grave.  The  plain  was  covered  with  heaps  of  ashes 
and  charred  poles.  Hundreds  of  human  bodies,  hideous  souve 
nirs  of  battle,  half-eaten  by  wolves  and  birds  of  prey,  filled  the 
air  with  pollution.  With  but  one  thought,  La  Salle  searched 
the  blackened  and  bloody  field  of  death,  with  sleepless  anxiety, 
for  traces  of  the  fate  of  Tonty.  That  the  Iroquois  had  wrought 
the  work  of  ruin  was  clear.  That  Tonty  had  been  burned 
alive,  or  taken  prisoner,  he  thought  he  read  in  some  charcoal 
drawings  on  some  stakes.  Taking  four  men  with  him,  La  Salle 
pushed  on  to  Fort  Crevecoeur.  Hope  was  dead  in  his  breast, 
and  dark  despair  floated  on  raven  plume,  like  a  bird  of  ill-omen, 
in  ever-narrowing  circles  above  his  dauntless  form. 

The  fort  was  destroyed.  On  the  stocks  stood  the  hull  of 
the  half-finished  vessel,  with  every  nail  and  spike  withdrawn. 
In  charcoal  letters  La  Salle  read,  "  Nous  sommes  tons  sauvages  : 
ce  15,  1680,"  inscription  by  the  mutineers.  Even  here  he  found 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  95 

bodies  lashed  to  stakes  and  half-consumed  by  the  torturing 
flames.  Down  the  Illinois  he  floated,  till  he  saw  before  his 
eyes  the  mighty  river  of  the  Mississippi.  It  was  the  source 
and  object  of  all  his  vast  ambitions  and  incomparable  efforts. 
But  its  charms  were  unheeded  by  his  anxious  eye.  No  trace 
of  Tonty  could  be  found. 

Tonty,  after  the  mutiny,  lived  in  the  Illinois  village,  a  weak, 
one-handed  soldier  of  fortune,  yet,  withal,  a  courtly  gentleman, 
amid  his  savage  companions;  one  who  would  have  graced  any 
court  in  Europe.  One  evening  word  was  brought  that  the  Iro- 
quois  were  coming.  The  same  messenger  said  La  Salle  was  with 
them;  hence,  Tonty  must  be  a  traitor.  The  excited  savages 
threw  his  precious  forge  and  tools  into  the  river.  He  was  in 
the  utmost  peril.  All  night  the  warriors  sang,  danced,  painted 
their  bodies,  and  worked  themselves  into  a  frenzy  to  raise  their 
courage.  Tonty  resorted  to  a  desperate  expedient.  He  went 
unarmed  into  the  Iroquois  camp,  bearing  a  belt  of  wampum. 

By  exaggerating  the  numbers  of  the  Illinois  and  threat 
ening  future  vengeance  from  the  French,  he  patched  up  a  peace. 
Scarcely  was  it  made  before  being  broken.  In  six  days  the 
Iroquois  chieftains  summoned  Tonty  to  meet  them.  An  orator 
presented  him  with  six  packs  of  beaver  skins.  The  first  two, 
he  said,  signified  that  the  children  of  Frontenac,  that  is,  the 
Illinois,  should  not  be  eaten ;  the  next  was  a  plaster  to  heal 
Tonty's  wound ;  the  next  was  oil  to  anoint  himself,  that  he 
might  not  be  fatigued  in  traveling ;  the  fifth  signified  that  the 
sun  was  bright;  the  sixth  required  him  to  pack  up  and  go  back 
to  Canada  forthwith.  Sadly  he  called  his  five  faithful  compan 
ions  together  and  started  on  foot  for  Green  Bay  Mission. 

La  Salle,  failing  to  find  his  friend,  retraced  his  steps  to  the 
fort  on  the  St.  Joseph  River.  Here  he  located  for  the  winter. 
Instead  of  being  crushed  by  the  cruel  aggregation  of  disasters 
and  defeats,  he  modified  his  plans  and  mapped  out  in  his  own 
secretive  mind  a  new  plan  for  the  pursuit  of  the  great  enter 
prise,  from  which  he  never  took  his  eye.  His  notion  was  to 


96  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

induce  the  Western  tribes  of  Indians  to  unite  in  a  defensive 
league  against  the  Iroquois,  with  himself  at  its  head.  He 
worked  incessantly,  traveling  far  and  near.  As  has  been  said, 
he  was  a  great  orator  with  the  Indians.  He  punctuated  his 
sentences  with  presents  of  hatchets  and  kettles,  and  emphasized 
his  words  with  red  blankets.  Such  eloquence  was  irresistible. 
Besides,  the  Indian  knows  a  hero  by  instinct.  He  recognizes  a 
true  leader  at  sight.  Everywhere  the  Indians  from  innumer 
able  tribes  lent  their  aid  to  the  enterprise.  La  Salle  was  to 
protect  them  against  the  Iroquois,  and  French  traders  were  to 
bring  to  them  all  the  articles  they  needed,  in  ships  which  would 
sail  up  the  Mississippi. 

Things  looked  promising.  To  discover  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi  was  of  the  first  importance.  For  this  a  trip  to  Can 
ada  was  again  necessary.  On  his  way  back,  La  Salle,  to  his 
infinite  joy,  found  Tonty  at  Michillimackinac.  Each  told  his 
tale  of  disaster.  The  new  scheme  and  its  signs  of  promise 
were  laid  before  Tonty.  Arrived  at  Montreal,  La  Salle  made  a 
last  effort  to  appease  his  creditors  and  procure  a  new  equipment. 
Once  more  he  set  out  for  the  Illinois,  by  the  same  dreary  route, 
so  'full  of  suggestions  of  wasted  wealth,  disappointed  ambitions, 
and  fruitless  toil.  The  past  was  a  failure.  Would  the  future 
prove  brighter? 

The  plan  of  building  a  large  vessel  for  the  journey  down 
the  Mississippi,  if  consummated,  would  have  enabled  La  Salle  to 
gather  quantities  of  furs,  and  pay  the  cost  of  the  expedition. 
Disaster  had  forced  him  to  abandon  the  plan  and  the  trip  was 
made  in  canoes.  The  Indians  along  the  river  proved  to  be 
friendly,  intelligent,  and  polite.  Concerning  the  Arkansas  tribe, 
one  of  the  party  writes :  "  They  are  gay,  civil,  and  free-hearted. 
The  young  men,  though  alert  and  spirited,  are  so  modest  that 
not  one  of  them  would  take  the  liberty  to  enter  our  hut,  but  all 
stood  quietly  at  the  door.  We  greatly  admired  their  form  and 
beauty.  We  did  not  lose  the  value  of  a  pin  while  among  them." 
At  the  principal  town  of  the  Taensas,  the  travelers  were  dum- 


LA  SALLE  PROCLAIMING  THE  FRENCH  EMPIRE  IN  AMERICA. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  99 

founded  to  find  large  square  dwellings,  built  of  mud,  straw,  and 
cane,  arched  over  with  dome-shaped  roofs. 

In  one  of  these  buildings,  in  a  room  forty  feet  square,  sat 
the  king  on  a  chair  of  state ;  three  wives  were  at  his  side,  and 
ranged  around  him  sat  sixty  old  men,  wrapped  in  white  cloaks, 
woven  of  mulberry  bark.  When  he  spoke  his  wives  howled. 
His  death  would  be  celebrated  with  the  death  of  one  hundred 
victims.  Another  building  formed  the  temple.  In  the  center 
was  an  altar  on  which  burned  a  perpetual  fire.  Around  the 
room  were  ranged  long  rows  of  grinning  skulls  from  the  victims 
sacrificed  to  the  Sun.  The  king  was  frightfully  solemn.  No 
smile  had  ever  flitted  across  his  cast-iron  countenance.  But  if 
he  failed  to  appreciate  a  joke,  he  liked  presents  and  visited  La 
Salle  at  his  camp.  On  this  important  occasion  the  solemn  old 
savage  advanced  in  his  white  robes,  preceded  by  two  men  with 
large  white  fans,  while  a  third  bore  an  enormous  disc  of  burn 
ished  copper,  representing  the  Sun,  which  was  the  king's  ances 
tor.  At  each  spot  that  he  visited,  La  Salle  erected  a  cross  with 
the  arms  of  France,  as  an  emblem  of  her  dominion. 

On  the  6th  of  April  they  reached  a  point  where  the  river 
divided  into  three  channels.  It  was  the  Delta.  It  was  not 
long  till  the  heavy  current  bore  the  voyagers  out  into  the 
lonely  gulf.  For  a  thousand  years  its  tossing  waves  had  in 
that  mighty  solitude  striven  to  rise  above  themselves ;  for  a 
thousand  years  they  had  fallen  back,  broken  and  sullen,  to 
their  own  level — fit  emblems  of  human  ambition.  Gathering 
on  the  shore,  the  little  group  of  weather-beaten  men  erected  a 
column  and  a  cross,  with  the  insignia  of  the  French  people. 
Then  La  Salle  proclaimed  aloud  the  French  dominion. 

"  On  that  day,"  says  Francis  Parkman,  "  the  realm  of  France 
received  on  parchment  a  stupendous  accession.  The  fertile 
plains  of  Texas;  the  vast  basin  of  the  Mississippi,  from  its 
frozen  northern  springs  to  the  sultry  borders  of  the  gulf; 
from  the  woody  ridges  of  the  Alleghanies  to  the  bare  peaks  of 

the  Rocky  Mountains — a  region  of  savannahs  and  forests,  sun- 
6 


100  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

cracked  deserts,  and  grassy  prairies,  watered  by  a  thousand 
rivers,  ranged  by  a  thousand  warlike  tribes,  passed  beneath  the 
scepter  of  the  sultan  of  Versailles;  and  all  by  virtue  of  a 
feeble  human  voice  inaudible  at  half  a  mile." 

The  new  domain  was  called  Louisiana,  in  honor  of  its  king. 
Henceforth  the  name  of  La  Salle  was  a  part  of  history.  But 
his  labors  were  only  begun.  Impatiently  he  urged  his  little 
fleet  of  canoes  upward  against  the  heavy  current.  His  way 
seemed  clear  now  for  the  execution  of  his  original  plan,  to 
abandon  the  difficult  and  roundabout  route  through  frozen 
Canada,  the  great  lakes  and  the  Kankakee  swamps,  to  plant 
a  fort  at  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  and  thus  monopolize  the 
magnificent  natural  pathway  to  the  interior  of  the  continent. 
On  his  way  back,  La  Salle  was  stricken  down  with  a  deadly 
fever.  Against  this  foe  his  stubborn  will  was  powerless.  He 
could  not. proceed  to  Canada  to  announce  his  discovery,  nor  to 
France  to  raise  means  for  carrying  out  his  splendid  plans,  nor 
even  to  the  Illinois  to  commence  his  fort.  While  La  Salle  lay 
in  a  hut  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  the  fever  of  ambition 
and  impatience  uniting  with  that  of  disease,  Tonty  pressed  on 
to  Canada  with  the  glorious  news  of  the  discovery. 

By  December  Tonty  and  La  Salle  were  once  more  together 
on  the  Illinois  River,  busy  with  perfecting  the  great  Indian 
league.  Overhanging  the  river,  La  Salle  had  previously  noticed 
a  great  rock,  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  high,  inaccessible 
on  all  sides  except  by  a  difficult  footpath  in  the  rear.  Its  top 
was  about  an  acre  in  extent.  This  rock,  properly  fortified, 
could  be  defended  by  a  score  of  men  against  hosts  of  savages. 
It  is  now  called  "Starved  Rock."  It  is  six  miles  below  the 
town  of  Ottawa,  Illinois.  On  the  top  of  this  rock  La  Salle 
and  Tonty  made  a  clearing,  and  built  a  palisade,  lodges,  store 
houses.  It  was  named  Fort  St.  Louis. 

The  league  grew  and  strengthened.  Every  day  brought 
re-enforcements.  Around  the  fort  a  hundred  tribes  took  up  their 
dwelling,  inspired  with  the  idea  of  being  protected  by  La  Salle 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  101 

from  the  terrible  Iroquois.  They  came  from  the  Kankakee, 
from  the  Ohio,  even  from  Maine.  Among  the  promiscuous 
throng  of  lodges  were  those  of  some  discomfited  warriors  of 
Philip  of  Mount  Hope,  who  had  for  a  while  spread  terror  and 
despair  through  the  Puritan  settlements  of  New  England.  La 
Salle's  diplomacy  had  achieved  a  wonderful  success.  Twenty 
thousand  savages  plante'd  their  wigwams  upon  the  plains,  over 
which  he  looked  from  his  castle  in  the  air. 

Of  all  men  the  Indian  is  the  most  unstable.  La  Salle  under 
stood  the  Indian  character  thoroughly.  His  mushroom  colony 
could  only  live  by  his  fulfilling  his  promises  to  protect  it  from 
the  Iroquois,  and  bring  Frenchmen  to  exchange  commodities 
for  their  furs.  To  achieve  these  things  he  needed  help.  Fron- 
tenac  was  no  longer  governor  of  Canada.  His  successor,  La 
Barre,  belonged  to  the  political  faction  composed  of  La  Salle's 
enemies.  These  last  were  not  asleep.  The  news  of  his  dis 
covery  and  his  mammoth  Indian  town  teased  their  jealousy 
and  hate  into  a  perfect  frenzy.  Their  emissaries  worked  inces 
santly  to  induce  the  Iroquois  to  make  war  and  destroy  La  Salle, 
who,  they  said,  was  combining  the  western  Indians  against  the 
Five  Nations.  On  the  other  hand,  they  spread  rumors  through 
the  excitable  throngs  around  Fort  St.  Louis  that  La  Salle  was 
keeping  them  there  for  the  Iroquois  to  destroy  them  all  at 
once.  Reports  were  frequent  that  the  Iroquois  were  coming. 

La  Salle's  situation  was  full  of  peril.  He  dared  not  leave 
Fort  St.  Louis  to  carry  out  his  plans  for  traffic  on  the  Missis 
sippi,  for  if  an  attack  should  be  made  in  his  absence  he  would 
be  denounced  as  the  instigator  of  the  Iroquois  war.  Yet  the 
necessity  for  his  departure  grew  stronger  each  day.  No  one 
but  he  could  arrange  to  build  the  fort  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi,  and  bring  vessels  from  France  laden  with  articles 
of  traffic  for  his  savage  allies.  To  meet  the  emergency,  he  sent 
letters  to  France,  imploring  assistance.  They  were  never  heard 
from.  He  begged  La  Barre  to  send  him  supplies  and  re-enforce 
ments.  No  answers  were  ever  received.  He  weakened  his 


102  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

little  colony  by  sending  messengers  to  Montreal  to  procure 
supplies  and  bring  them  by  canoes.  The  messengers  were 
plundered  of  their  cargoes  by  the  Canadian  governor  and 
thrown  into  prison.  La  Salle,  in  the  depths  of  the  wilderness, 
was  unaware  of  the  governor's  enmity.  Again  and  again  he 
wrote,  describing  the  situation,  and  imploring  that  bis  men 
might  be  allowed  to  return  with  supplies.  The  only  response 
was  angry  letters  from  his  creditors,  accusing  him  of  every 
crime  under  heaven.  There  remained  but  a  hundred  pounds  of 
powder  in  the  fort.  Should  the  Iroquois  come,  strong  resistance 
was  impossible. 

On  receipt  of  La  Salle's  letters,  La  Barre  wrote  to  the 
government  of  France  that  La  Salle  was  a  crack-brained  adven 
turer,  bent  on  involving  the  Canadian  colonies  in  a  war  with 
the  Iroquois ;  that  he  had  set  himself  up  as  king ;  that  he  had 
robbed  his  creditors  only  to  waste  the  ill-gotten  gain  in  riotous 
living  and  in  debauching  the  Indians ;  that  so  far  from  serving 
the  king,  his  sole  object  was  private  gain.  These  slanders 
reached  the  mark.  The  king  wrote  back  that  "  the  discovery 
of  La  Salle  is  utterly  useless,  and  such  enterprises  should,  in 
the  future,  be  prevented."  What  a  prophet  was  Louis  XIV 
concerning  the  future  of  America !  Had  he  but  known  bet 
ter,  his  "  New "  France  was  most  speedily  to  far  surpass  his 
"  Old "  France.  La  Barre,  emboldened  by  the  king's  letter, 
seized  all  of  La  Salle's  property,  declared  his  privileges  for 
feited,  and  dispatched  an  officer  to  supersede  him  at  Fort 
St.  Louis.  He  found  only  Tonty.  La  Salle  had  started  for 
France. 

It  was  an  opportune  moment  for  La  Salle  when  he  appeared 
before  the  gold  and  ivory  chair  of  state  in  which  sat  the  small 
specimen  of  humanity,  in  high-heeled  shoes  and  gaudy  attire, 
who  represented  the  sovereignty  of  France.  A  war  with  Spain 
was  in  progress.  La  Salle  was  smart.  His  great  object  was 
to  get  a  fort  and  colony  on  the  Mississippi.  Instead  of  dwell 
ing  on  its  use  in  controlling  and  developing  traffic  with  the  vast 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  103 

interior,  he  held  out  the  more  glittering,  but  far  less  substantial, 
allurement  that  such  a  fort  would  be  a  basis  for  a  descent  on 
Mexico  and  the  Spanish  dominion.  His  geographical  notions 
were  wrong.  Mexico  was  much  farther  off  than  he  thought. 
But  the  king  knew  no  better.  The  idea  of  wresting  Mexico, 
with  its  rich  mines  of  silver  and  gold  from  the  indolent  Span 
iards  who  guarded  it,  caught  his  eye.  Feeling  exerts  a  power 
ful  influence  on  conduct.  He  hated  Spain.  Any  plan  to  hurt 
her  was  grateful  to  him. 

So  La  Salle  was  granted  more  than  he  asked.  La  Forest, 
La  Salle's  lieutenant,  was  dispatched  to  Canada  with  a  royal 
reprimand  for  La  Barre.  He  wras  also  to  resume  possession 
of  Fort  Frontenac  and  Fort  St.  Louis.  He  was  further  ordered 
to  march  the  four  thousand  warriors  at  the  latter  place,  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  to  co-operate  with  La  Salle  in  an 
invasion  of  Mexico.  When  his  lieutenant  received  this  latter 
order  from  La  Salle,  the  latter  must  have  nearly  burst  with 
inward  laughter.  It  is  the  solitary  joke  in  his  stern  career. 
It  gives  him  a  rank  among  the  funny  men  of  all  ages.  Gulli 
ver's  exploits  are  nothing  in  comparison  with  marching  four 
thousand  wild  Indians,  as  unstable  as  water,  belonging  to  a  hun 
dred  wandering  tribes,  two  thousand  miles  from  their  hunting- 
grounds;  their  women  and  children  left  behind  at  the  mercy 
of  savage  foes ;  their  numbers  so  great  that,  without  any  pro 
vision  for  supplies,  they  must  starve  on  the  way ;  with  no  arms 
but  bows  and  arrows,  and  no  object  but  to  invade  a  country  of 
which  they  had  never  heard.  But  the  wise  simpleton  of  Ver 
sailles  saw  nothing  of  the  joke.  What  could  be  more  natural  ? 
The  idea  delighted  him.  He  gave  La  Salle  four  ships  instead 
of  one.  Of  these  the  Joly  was  the  largest. 

A  hundred  soldiers,  thirty  gentlemen,  a  number  of  mechan 
ics,  besides  the  wives  of  some  and  a  few  girls  who  saw  a  cer 
tain  prospect  of  matrimony,  embarked  on  this  last  expedition 
of  Robert  Cavalier  De  La  Salle.  The  command  was  divided. 
Beaujeu,  a  high-tempered,  but  old  and  experienced  naval  officer, 


104  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

was  to  command  the  ships  at  sea;  La  Salle  was  to  have  entire 
control  on  land.  This  two-headed  arrangement  gave  rise  to  no 
end  of  trouble.  La  Salle,  always  suspicious  and  secretive, 
found  out  that  Beaujeu's  wife  was  devoted  to  the  Jesuits. 
His  cold,  impenetrable  manner,  confiding  in  none,  counseling 
with  none,  haughty  and  reserved,  would  have  exasperated  a 
far  less  testy  and  excitable  man  than  old  Beaujeu.  As  it 
was,  La  Salle's  colleague  sputtered  over  with  fury.  Before 
they  were  out  of  the  harbor,  La  Salle  believed  that  Beaujeu 
was  a  traitor,  in  connivance  with  his  enemies  to  ruin  the  expe 
dition.  Old  Beaujeu,  on  his  part,  was  furious  that  he,  an 
experienced  naval  officer  of  high  rank,  should  divide  command 
with  a  man  "  who  has  no  experience  of  war  except  with  sav 
ages,  who  has  no  rank,  and  never  commanded  any  body  but  school 
boys  " — a  thrust  at  La  Salle's  school-teaching  days,  when  he  was 
with  the  Jesuits.  Beaujeu  wrote  letters  continually  to  the 
government,  complaining  of  his  ignominy.  To  these  ebullitions 
of  age,  vanity,  and  temper  the  answers  were  curt  enough. 

The  two  leaders  quarreled — about  the  stowage  of  the  cargo, 
about  the  amount  of  provision  to  be  taken  on  board,  about  the 
destination  of  the  expedition.  Beaujeu  believed  that  La  Salle 
was  not  a  sane  man.  It  is  not  impossible  that  his  terrible 
exposures  and  sufferings,  his  ceaseless  struggles  with  his  cred 
itors  and  enemies,  his  crushing  disappointments  had  affected 
the  poise  of  La  Salle's  mind.  His  universal  distrust  included 
even  the  faithful  Tonty.  On  July  24,  1684,  the  little  fleet 
spread  its  canvas.  On  the  fourth  day  out  the  Joly  broke 
a  bowsprit.  La  Salle  believed  it  to  have  happened  by  design. 
The  ships  put  back  to  Rochelle  to  repair  the  damage. 

The  wretched  voyage  lasted  two  months.  La  Salle  was  in 
miserable  health.  The  disagreements  between  him  and  Beau 
jeu  grew  continually  worse.  La  Salle  desired  to  put  in  at  Port 
de  Paix.  Here  he  was  to  receive  supplies  and  information  from 
the  French  governor,  wrho  had  orders  to  render  all  possible  assist 
ance  to  the  expedition.  Beaujeu,  boiling  with  rage,  managed  to 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  105 

run  by  the  place  at  night  and  insisted  on  landing  at  a  different 
place,  Petit  Gouare.  No  supplies  were  to  be  had  here.  Many 
of  the  men  were  sick  from  the  intense  heat  and  close  confinement 
on  shipboard.  The  smallest  vessel,  the  one  laden  with  stores, 
tools,  and  ammunition,  had  fallen  behind.  Two  days*  passed,  and 
instead  of*  her  arrival,  word  was  brought  that  she  had  been  cap 
tured  by  pirates.  The  blow  wras  terrific,  and  could  not  have 
fallen,  had  Beaujeu  put  in  at  Port  de  Paix.  La  Salle,  eaten 
up  with  anxiety,  became  dangerously  ill  and  delirious.  In  the 
extremity,  Joutel,  a  gardener,  who  had  joined  the  expedition, 
was  his  main  reliance,  and  continued  so  till  the  end.  He  became 
the  historian  of  the  enterprise.  While  lying  at  this  port,  freed 
from  the  restraint  of  their  leader's  eye,  the  men  engaged  in  the 
worst  debauchery,  contracting  diseases  which  brought  many  to 
their  graves. 

The  captain  of  the  Aimable  gave  La  Salle  great  uneasiness. 
To  prevent  treachery,  he  went  on  board  the  vessel  himself.  It 
was  near  New  Year's,  when,  having  entered  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
they  discovered  land.  Every  eye  was  strained  to  detect  the 
mouth  of  the  great  river. 

At  this  point  La  Salle  committed  a  fatal  blunder.     Having 
heard  that  the  currents  of  the  gulf  set  strongly  to  the  eastward, 
he  supposed  he  had  not  reached  the  Mississippi.     In  fact  he  had 
passed  it.     Day  after  day  they  sailed  slowly  to  the  west.     No 
sign  of  the  river  appeared.     A  halt  was  called.     The  weather 
was  stormy ;  the  coast  unknown  and  dangerous.     The  men  were 
rapidly  consuming  the  provisions.    Beaujeu  was  irritable.    Joutel 
says  La  Salle  requested  him  to  sail  back  in  search  of  the  river 
and  that  the  naval  commander  refused  to  do  it.    Impatient  of  the 
restraint  and  anxious  to  assume  the  sole  command,  La  Salle  deter 
mined  to  land  his  soldiers  on  the  swampy  shores  and  send  them 
to  search  for  the  river  by  land.     Joutel  was  placed  in  command. 
For  three   days   the   detachment  pushed   their  way   north 
eastward  through  tropical  forests  and  across  lagoons.     The  men 
were  constructing  a  raft  to  cross  Matagorda  Bay,  when  they  dis- 


106  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

covered  the  ships  which  had  been  following  along  the  coast. 
La  Salle  came  ashore,  and  announced  that  this  was  the  western 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  He  ordered  the  ships  to  enter  the 
narrow  harbor.  The  Aimable  came  first.  La  Salle  was  watch 
ing  her.  Suddenly  some  men  came  running  in  from  the  forest 
reporting  that  two  of  their  number  had  been  carried  off  by  the 
Indians.  La  Salle  ordered  instant  pursuit.  With  a  last  anxious 
look  at  the  Aimable,  which  was  steering  in  the  wrong  direction 
to  be  safe,  he  started  after  the  Indians.  He  had  just  come  in 
sight  of  them  when  the  report  of  a  cannon  was  heard  from  the 
bay.  The  savages  fell  prostrate  with  fright.  But  the  chill  of 
a  more  deadly  fear  froze  the  blood  in  La  Salle's  veins.  The 
gun  was  a  signal  of  distress.  The  Aimable ',  with  her  cargo  of 
stores  and  utensils  for  the  colony,  had  struck  the  cruel  reef. 

Securing  his  men  from  the  Indians,  La  Salle  hastened  back 
to  the  scene  of  either  accident  or  treachery  to  save,  if  possible, 
the  cargo.  The  small  boat  of  the  vessel  was  found  to  have  been 
staved  in.  This  looked  suspicious  and  caused  delay.  A  boat 
was  sent  from  the  Joly.  Some  gunpowder  and  flour  had  been 
landed,  when  the  wind  rose.  The  breakers  came  rolling  in, 
lifting  the  doomed  vessel  and  hurling  her,  again  and  again,  upon 
the  rocks.  The  greedy  waves  were  strewn  with  her  treasures. 

La  Salle's  heart  must  have  been  broken.  The  circumstantial 
evidence  that  the  captain  of  the  Aimable  had  wrecked  his  vessel 
on  purpose  was  of  the  strongest  character.  The  wretched  com 
pany  encamped  near  the  wreck  behind  a  rough  pile  of  boxes, 
bales,  driftwood,  and  spars.  The  Indians  were  unmistakably 
hostile.  They  plundered  the  camp,  fired  the  woods,  and  even 
killed  two  men.  The  colonists  were  nearly  all  sick.  Five  or 
six  were  dying  every  day.  Beaujeu  having  accomplished  his 
mission  and  landed  La  Salle  at  what  he  declared  was  the  mouth 
of  the  Mississippi,  set  sail  for  France.  Toward  the  last,  the 
testy  old  sea-captain  sympathized  with  La  Salle.  He,  at  least, 
had  not  proved  treacherous,  and  they  parted  friends.  The  col 
onists  were  left  to  their  misery.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that 


CAMP  OF  LA  SAUvE  NEAR  MATAGORDA  3AY 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  109 

in  the  unhappy  company  were  women  and  girls.  The  colony 
lived  in  constant  fear  of  the  Spanish,  who  were  patrolling  the 
gulf  in  search  of  them.  Two  of  the  men  deserted.  Another 
was  hung  for  crime.  One  of  the  best  of  the  company  was 
bitten  by  a  snake  and  died. 

The  most  serious  thing,  however,  which  befell  the  colony 
was  the  discovery  by  La  Salle  that  he  was  not  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Mississippi.  He  knew  not  where  he  was,  only  not  on 
the  river  which  was  the  source  and  object  of  all  his  Titanic 
toil.  Unless  the  river  could  be  found,  and  that  speedily,  his 
mighty  undertaking  was  utterly  and  forever  ruined.  If  it  could 
be  found,  a  good  fort  built,  and  communications  established  with 
Fort  St.  Louis,  on  the  Illinois,  something  might  yet  be  accom 
plished.  Unless  this  was  done,  La  Salle  felt  that  all  his  Her 
culean  labors  were  wasted,  his  life  a  ruin,  and  his  dream  of 
empire  a  bitter  folly. 

The  future  was  as  black  as  midnight.  A  single  star  beam 
shone  through  the  darkness.  The  little  frigate  Belle,  a  gift  from 
the  king  to  La  Salle,  was  still  safe.  If  the  Mississippi  could  be 
found,  this  vessel  might  convey  the  colony  and  such  stores  as 
they  had  left  to  its  banks.  A  spot  was  sought  where  protection 
could  be  had  from  the  scorching  sun.  The  industrious  toiled. 
The  friars  got  out  their  battered  altar  and  crosses.  A  fort 
was  built.  The  stoutest  sank  under  this  labor.  Numbers  also 
were  being  slowly  consumed  by  diseases  brought  with  them. 
La  Salle's  company  was  not  the  "flower  of  France."  Many 
of  his  men  had  been  professional  street  beggars.  On  the  walls 
of  the  new  "  Fort  St.  Louis,"  as  La  Salle  called  it,  were  planted 
eight  cannon.  In  the  absence  of  balls,  they  were  loaded  with 
stones  and  bags  of  bullets. 

When  the  wretched  colonists  were  thus  located,  La  Salle 
started  on  a  journey  of  exploration.  He  was  still  dauntless, 
self-contained,  energetic.  His  mighty  sorrows  may  have  shat 
tered  him.  In  his  extremity  his  fierce  temper  only  became 
more  fractious,  his  suspicion  more  dark.  He  treated  his  men 


110  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

with  more  and  more  rigor  and  hauteur.  He  kept  his  own 
counsel  more  obstinately  than  ever.  He  was  made  of  iron. 
He  bent  not  one  inch  to  the  storm.  His  invincible  intellect 
refused  to  bow  to  defeat.  It  insulted  Fate,  and  hurled  defiance 
at  all  the  powers  of  destiny  and  hell. 

The  day  of  his  departure  was  the  last  of  October,  1685. 
His  brother,  Abbe  Cavalier,  just  recovered  from  a  long  illness, 
accompanied  him  with  fifty  men.  It  was  March  before  they 
returned.  They  told  a  tale  of  suffering  and  disappointment. 
Some  of  the  men  had  deserted,  some  were  drowned,  some  snake 
bitten,  some  killed  by  Indians.  The  Mississippi  had  not  been 
found.  This  was  not  the  worst.  The  Belle  had  been  ordered 
to  follow  them  along  the  coast.  At  a  certain  point  in  the 
journey  La  Salle  lost  sight  of  her.  Men  were  sent  to  search. 
They  brought  back  no  tidings.  The  day  after  La  Salle  reached 
the  fort  the  last  one  of  these  detachments  arrived.  They  had 
been  more  successful.  The  pilot  of  the  Belle,  while  on  shore, 
had  been  killed  by  Indians.  Soon  after  this  the  crew  got  drunk. 
A  wind  arose ;  the  vessel  was  clumsily  handled ;  in  five  minutes 
all  that  was  left  of  her  was  a  mass  of  spars  and  splinters  hang 
ing  on  the  rock-bound  coast. 

In  all  his  troubled  career,  the  unfortunate  La  Salle  had  never 
met  with  a  disaster  so  utterly  overwhelming  and  irretrievable  as 
this.  With  the  loss  of  the  Belle  was  lost  the  only  means  of 
returning  to  France,  or  of  planting  a  colony  on  the  Mississippi. 

There  was  no  longer  any  use  to  hunt  for  the  river.  If  it 
were  found  the  colony  could  never  get  there.  To  transport  their 
cannon,  forges,  tools,  and  stores  by  land  was  preposterous.  A 
man  could  not  carry  enough  food  to  take  him  half-way.  La  Salle 
broke  down.  He  was  taken  with  another  terrible  attack  of  fever. 

For  months  he  fought  this  foe  as  he  had  every  other.  His 
sublime  will  rose  superior  to  difficulty.  His  mind  once  more 
cleared.  He  determined  to  make  his  way  to  the  Mississippi, 
force  his  canoe  upward  against  its  current  to  the  Illinois;  thence 
from  Fort  St.  Louis  again  to  Canada  and  to  France,  where  he 


THE   TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE,  111 

would  obtain  succor.  It  was  a  journey  of  seven  thousand 
miles.  The  imagination  fails  to  compass  the  immensity  of  the 
undertaking.  It  surpassed  the  labors  of  Hercules. 

One  April  day,  after  mass  and  prayer,  a  little  handful  of 
men,  with  hatchets,  kettles,  guns,  corn,  and  presents  for  the 
Indians,  strapped  to  their  backs,  set  out  over  the  prairie  on  the 
mighty  undertaking.  La  Salle  alone  knew  its  extent.  He  kept 
the  secret  locked  in  his  own  breast,  or  not  a  man  would  Jiave 
accompanied  him.  The  trusty  Joutel  remained  in  command  at  the 
fort.  The  strictest  discipline  was  enforced.  This  was  to  divert 
the  minds  of  the  colonists  from  their  terrible  situation.  Every 
one  was  compelled  to  work.  Joutel  says:  "We  did  what  we 
could  to  amuse  ourselves,  and  drive  away  care.  I  encouraged 
our  people  to  dance  and  sing  in  the  evenings,  for  when  M.  de 
La  Salle  was  among  us  pleasure  was  often  banished.  I  tried  to 
keep  the  people  as  busy  as  possible.  I  set  them  to  making  a 
small  cellar  to  keep  meat  fresh  in  hot  weather;  but  when  M.  de 
La  Salle  came  back  he  said  it  was  too  small.  As  he  always 
wanted  to  do  every  thing  on  a  large  scale,  he  prepared  to  make 
a  large  one,  and  marked  out  the  plan."  Like  poor  La  Salle's 
other  plans,  the  one  for  this  cellar  proved  too  large  to  be  prac 
ticable.  So  it  was  never  built  at  all. 

The  situation  of  the  colonists  was  practically  hopeless. 
There  was  not  one  chance  in  a  thousand  that  La  Salle  'could 
really  make  his  way  across  the  wilderness  of  a  continent  inhab 
ited  by  sleepless  and  bloodthirsty  savages,  to  Montreal,  and 
thence  to  France.  Even  if  he  reached  France,  from  what 
resources  could  the  disappointed  and  ruined  adventurer  draw 
the  large  sums  necessary  to  equip  a  vessel  and  conie  to  their 
relief?  It  was  now  nearly  two  years  since  they  left  Rochelle. 
La  Salle  had  promised  to  conquer  Mexico  in  a  year!  Yet  La 
Salle's  trip  to  France  was  their  only  hope.  Located  at  the 
mouth  of  a  Texan  river,  no  ship  would  ever  pass  that  way, 
unless  some  Spanish  cruiser,  seeking  whom  it  might  destroy. 

Still,  that  the  colonists  were  not  overwhelmed  with  despair, 


112  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

is  shown  by  one  Barbiers,  who  asked  leave  to  marry  one  of  the 
girls.  Joutel  held  a  solemn  consultation  with  the  friars,  and  the 
two  lovers  were  united.  Shortly  afterward  a  marquis  begged 
the  same  privilege  concerning  another  girl.  Joutel,  the  young 
gardener,  concerned  at  such  an  abasement  of  nobility,  refused, 
and  deprived  the  lovers  of  all  communication  with  each  other. 
Meanwhile  great  discontent  became  manifest.  Duhant,  the 
greatest  villain  in  the  company,  declared  that  La  Salle  had  left 
them  to  their  fate,  and  would  never  return. 

One  night  a  knocking  was  heard  at  the  gate.  It  was  La 
Salle.  Out  of  twenty  men  only  eight  had  lived  to  return. 
They  had  journeyed  far,  incurring  almost  every  peril  and  dis 
aster  of  which  one  can  conceive.  At  last  La  Salle  took  sick. 
This  delayed  them  two  months,  and  by  exhausting  their 
ammunition  and  strength,  »forced  them  to  return  to  the  fort. 
The  colonists,  of  whom  only  forty-five  remained,  murmured 
loudly.  La  Salle  had  a  heavy  task  to  make  them  contented 
with  the  dreary  weather-beaten  palisade  and  fort.  He  was 
about  to  renew  his  effort  to  reach  Canada,  when  he  was 
attacked  with  hernia.  His  constitution  seemed  badly  shattered. 

It  was  in  January,  1687,  before  the  start  could  be  made. 
Joutel  this  time  was  to  accompany  his  chief.  La  Salle  made  a 
farewell  address,  in  an  unusually  kind,  winning  and  hopeful 
manner.  With  heavy  hearts,  both  of  those  going  and  those 
remaining,  the  little  band  took  up  its  slow  march,  followed  by 
straining  eyes,  until  it  disappeared  from  view  forever.  The 
company  was  full  of  discord.  Liotal,  the  surgeon,  had  sworn 
revenge  on  La  Salle  for  having  on  one  occasion  sent  his  brother 
on  a  trip,  during  which  he  was  killed  by  Indians.  Duhaut  had 
long  hated  La  Salle,  and  both  men  alike  despised  Moranget, 
La  Salle's  nephew.  Several  quarrels  took  place.  One  day 
Duhaut,  Liotal,  Hiens,  a  buccaneer,  Teissier,  FArcheveque,  and 
Nika  and  Saget,  two  Indian  servants  of  La  Salle,  were  out 
hunting  buffalo.  Having  killed  some,  they  sent  word  to  the 
camp.  Moranget  and  DeMarle  were  dispatched  with  horses, 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  113 

which  had  been  bought  of  Indians,  to  bring  in  the  meat.  When 
Moranget  arrived  he  abused  the  men  violently  because  the 
meat  was  not  smoked  properly,  and  quarreled  fiercely  with 
Duhaut  because  he  claimed  the  marrow  bones.  Moranget 
ended  by  seizing  them. 

It  was  too  much.  The  men  who  might  in  France  have  lived 
and  died  respected  citizens,  embittered  by  disappointment,  and 
crushed  by  disaster,  were  no  longer  men.  They  were  wild 
beasts.  That  evening  Duhaut  and  Liotal  took  counsel  with 
Hiens,  Teissier,  and  I'Archeveque.  A  bloody  plot  was  laid. 
The  supper  over,  the  pipes  smoked,  each  man  rolled  himself  in 
his  blanket.  Then  the  conspirators  arose.  Duhaut  and  Hiens 
stood  with  guns  cocked,  to  shoot  any  who  might  resist.  The 
surgeon  stole  forward,  and,  with  hurried  blows  from  an  axe, 
clove  the  skulls  of  the  sleeping  Moranget,  Nika,  and  Saget,  the 
nephew,  the  friend,  and  the  servant  of  La  Salle. 

It  was  quickly  done.  Their  victims  lay  weltering  in  pools 
of  blood,  while  the  night  wind  sighed  through  the  lonely  forest. 
The  red  demon  of  murder,  which  had  entered  the  hearts  of  the 
conspirators,  pointed  with  bloody  finger  at  La  Salle,  six  miles 
away.  Hatred  and  self-preservation  alike  demanded  his  death. 

That  evening  Moranget  had  not  returned,  and  La  Salle 
seemed  to  have  a  presentiment  of  evil.  He  questioned  Joutel 
closely  as  to  whether  Duhaut  had  any  bad  designs.  Joutel 
knew  nothing  except  that  he  had  complained  about  being  found 
fault  with  so  much.  La  Salle  passed  an  uneasy  night.  In  the 
morning  he  borrowed  the  best  gun  in  the  party,  and  taking  a 
friar  for  a  companion  and  an  Indian  for  his  guide,  started  in 
search  of  the  missing  men.  As  he  walked,  he  talked  with  the 
good  friar,  only  "of  piety,  grace,  and  predestination;  enlarging 
on  the  debt  he  owed  God,  who  had  saved  him  from  so  many 
perils,  during  more  than  twenty  years  of  travel  in  America." 
"Suddenly,"  says  the  friar,  "I  saw  him  overwhelmed  with  a 
profound  sadness,  for  which  himself  Could  not  account.  He 
was  so  moved  I  scarcely  knew  him."  His  approach  was 


114  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

perceived  by  the  murderers.  Duhaut  and  the  surgeon,  crouched 
in  the  long  grass,  with  guns  cocked.  L'Archeveque  remained  in 
sight.  La  Salle  called  to  him,  asking  where  was  Moranget. 
The  man  replied  in  a  tone  agitated  but  insolent,  that  he  was 
strolling  around  somewhere.  La  Salle  rebuked  him,  and  con 
tinued  to  advance.  At  that  moment  two  shots  were  fired  from 
the  grass,  and  the  great  La  Salle,  the  hero  of  a  thousand 
exploits,  dropped  dead  with  a  bullet  in  his  brain. 

The  toiler  had  found  rest  at  last.  The  toilworn  body  was 
rudely  thrown  into  the  bushes,  and  became  the  food  of  vultures 
and  of  wolves. 

Thus,  at  forty-three  years  of  age,  fell  one  of  the  greatest 
explorers  of  all  time.  That  he  had  grave  faults  is  most  true. 
He  was  often  impractical.  His  movements  seem  sometimes  the 
result  of  hasty  and  inconsiderate  resolve.  His  fierce  temper, 
and  gloomy,  unsocial  nature  brought  on  him  the  dislike  of  his 
men.  He  attempted  too  much.  Yet,  it  is  clear  that  he  far 
surpassed  his  age  in  his  foresight  of  the  future  of  the  Mis 
sissippi  valley.  His  dream  of  the  interior  empire  was  to  what 
has  really  come  to  pass,  as  the  first  faint  blush  of  dawn  in 
eastern  skies  is  to  the  blazing  radiance  of  noon.  If  his  material 
resources  were  too  small  for  his  vast  undertaking,  he  possessed 
a  will  like  that  of*  a  god.  The  vast  and  continuous  stream 
of  energy,  proceeding  for  twenty  years  from  the  brain  of  La 
Salle,  was  superhuman.  His  sensibilities  were  weak  or  wholly 
wanting.  His  intellect  and  will  place  his  name  above  that  of 
every  other  explorer. 

It  is  impossible  to  find  anywhere  an  equal  for  La  Salle's 
undertakings  and  efforts,  his  sufferings  and  toils.  Yet  for  it  all 
he  received  no  reward  save  the  bullet  of  an  assassin.  Like 
many  another  hero,  La  Salle  was  ignored  and  cast  out  by  man 
kind.  Unfortunate  in  life,  he  was  still  unfortunate  in  death. 
His  countless  throng  of  enemies  each  made  a  stab  at  his  mem 
ory.  The  only  thing  we,  who  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  terrific 
toil,  can  do  for  La  Salle,  is  to  accord  him  the  praise  of  history. 


MURDER  OF  LA  SALLE  IN  TEXAS. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  LA  SALLE.  117 

We  have  said  he  was  one  of  history's  loneliest  characters.  It 
is  true.  He  was  and  is  a  solitary  of  the  solitaries.  In  life  his 
lonely,  retiring,  secretive  nature  forced  him,  as  he  himself  said, 
to  abandon  various  employments  in  which,  without  it,  he  would 
have  succeeded,  and  to  choose  a  life  more  suited  to  his  solitary 
disposition.  We  see  him  driven  to  the  wilderness  by  his  own 
solitariness.  Still  he  was  not  enough  alone.  He  shut  out  from 
his  confidence  even  the  handful  of  men  with  whom  he  traversed 
the  silent  and  uninhabited  forests  of  America.  His  was  the 
solitude  of  genius.  "  Buzzing  insects  fly  in  swarms ;  the  lion 
stalks  alone."  He  was  separated  from  his  nearest  friend  by 
fathomless  abysses.  Solitary  in  life,  he  is  also  solitary  in  his 
tory.  He  can  not  be  classed  with  nor  compared  to  any  other. 
His  name  is  a  star  which  belongs  to  no  constellation.  The 
Chevalier  de  La  Salle  is  like  no  one  but  himself.  His  very 
greatness  makes  it  so. 

After  the  murders,  Joutel,  and  one  or  two  companions,  who 
had  been  faithful  to  their  leader,  expected  nothing  but  death. 
The  conspirators  would  never  allow  the  witnesses  of  their  crime 
to  reach  the  settlements  alive.  But  the  way  was  strangely 
cleared.  The  murderers  fell  out  among  themselves,  and  Hiens 
and  his  friends  deliberately  shot  and  killed  Duhaut  and  Liotal. 
Thus  these  heralds  of  civilization  instructed  the  savages  in  its 
lessons.  Joutel  and  his  friends  were  allowed  to  depart  on 
condition  of  giving  the  murderers  certificates  of  their  innocence 
of  the  crime.  They  made  their  way  to  Fort  St.  Louis,  on  the 
Illinois,  where  the  brave  Tonty  still  held  his  own,  and  thence 
to  Canada  and  France.  When  Tonty  had  learned  that  La  Salle 
had  landed  on  the  shores  of  the  gulf,  he  had  gone  to  meet 
him.  But  though  he  explored  the  coast  for  sixty  miles  from 
the  mouth,  failed  to  find  him.  La  Salle,  at  that  moment,  was 
seeking  the  fatal  river  in  the  plains  of  Texas.  The  brave 
Tonty  remained  for  some  years  at  Fort  St.  Louis  trading  in 
furs.  The  king  finally  ordered  the  post  to  be  abandoned,  and 
his  subsequent  career  is  unknown. 


118  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  colony  on  the  gulf  was  left  to  its  fate  by  Louis  XIV. 
In  his  gorgeous  palaces  at  Versailles,  he  turned  an  ear  of  stone 
to  the  account  of  Joutel  concerning  the  unfortunates  left  behind. 
One  day  a  Spanish  ship,  guided  by  one  of  La  Salle's  deserters, 
sought  out  the  spot  where  the  colony  had  been,  intent  on  its 
destruction.  But  the  destroyers  found  the  place  as  silent  as 
death.  The  weather-beaten  palisade  was  out  of  repair.  The 
roof  of  the  store-house  had  tumbled  in.  The  dismounted  can 
non  lay  scattered  around  in  the  mire.  The  whole  place  had 
fallen  into  decay.  Looking  a  little  farther,  the  fierce  Spaniards 
found  a  cluster  of  human  skeletons,  lying  as  if  they  had  fallen 
there  in  death.  Around  the  .bony  finger  of  one  was  a  little 
ring.  Its  possessor  had  been  a  woman.  Awed  by  the  mystery 
of  the  place,  the  strangers  were  about  leaving,  when  two  men, 
apparently  Indians,  came  up.  They  said  the  colony  had  been 
attacked  by  small-pox.  Many  had  died.  The  rest  were  mur 
dered  by  the  Indians.  The  speakers  were  1'Archeveque  and 
Grallet.  They  alone  remained  to  tell  the  tale.  They  were 
made  prisoners  of  war,  and  sentenced  to  a  life  imprisonment  in 
a  Spanish  dungeon.  The  last  of  La  Salle's  colonies  had  disap 
peared  from  the  face  of  the  earth ! 


DISCOVERY  OF  I. A  SALLE'S  RUINED  SETTLEMENT, 


119 


THE  FATE  OF  PHILIP. 


121 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    FATE    OF    PHILIP. 

[HE  Pilgrim  Fathers  are  immortal!  No  hand 
can  snatch  the  laurel  from  their  brows.  For 
two  hundred  and  fifty  years  their  fame  has 
steadily  grown.  Their  history  has  been  written 
with  faithful  accuracy  and  elaborate  detail.  It 
is  a  part  of  our  common  knowledge,  our  uni 
versal  heritage.  We  see  them  as  they  were. 
In  the  dark  and  narrow  cabin  of  the  May 
flower,  as  it  passes  the  farthest  reach  of  human  laws,  we  see 
them  calmly  signing  a  compact  to  make  and  keep  laws  for 
themselves.  We  see  them,  men,  women,  and  children,  in  an 
open  shallop,  pelted  by  storms  of  sleet  and  hail,  their  clothing 
stiff  with  frozen  spray,  beating  their  way  through  the  wintry 
tempest  to  the  bleak  and  rocky  New  England  shore.  A  narrow 
street  of  log  dwellings  arises  in  the  wilderness.  Some  have 
exchanged  luxury  and  elegance  for  these  humble  homes.  We 
see  them  struggling  with  starvation,  disease,  and  death.  The 
little  graveyard  swiftly  grows,  until,  before  the  flowers  of  spring, 
the  number  of  the  dead  exceeds  that  of  the  living.  For  lib 
erty  of  opinion  they  lay  down  their  lives.  When  all  but  eight 
men  are  stricken  down,  these  few  toil  day  and  night  in  service 
for  the  sick,  refusing  no  task,  however  mean.  We  see  them 
daily  in  dread  of  an  attack  from  brutal  savages. 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  these  toils  and  dangers,  they  are  prayer 
ful  and  contented.     In  spite  of  the  demoralizations  of  a  life  in 


122  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  wilderness,  their  conduct  is  as  correct  as  the  law  itself; 
their  moral  principles  as  rigid  as  iron;  their  hearts  as  loyal  as 
love.  Though  starving  to  death,  they  will  not  trade  for  an 
ounce  of  the  corn  which  some  Indians  bring,  because  it  is  the 
Sabbath  day.  We  see  them  for  weeks  at  a  time  with  nothing 
but  a  few  clams  and  some  cold  water  to  place  before  them 
selves  at  meals,  yet  giving  thanks  in  prayer  to  God  that  they 
"could  suck  of  the  abundance  of  the  seas,  and  of  the  treasures 
hid  in  the  sands."  For  a  while  the  daily  allowance  of  corn  is 
five  kernels  to  the  person.  These  kernels  are  carefully  parched, 
a  blessing  pronounced  over  them  with  all  solemnity,  thanking 
God  for  his  abundant  mercy,  and  then  they  are  eaten  with 
cheerful  hearts.  All  this  they  endured,  and  infinitely  more. 
Yet  not  one  person  gave  up  and  went  back  to  England.  They 
came  to  stay. 

The  pure  and  lofty  character  of  the  Plymouth  colonists  is  in 
marked  contrast  with  that  of  the  thieves  and  cut-throats  of  many 
another  colony. 

We  have  seen  how  the  English  robbed  and  murdered  Pow- 
hatan's  people,  and  abducted  his  daughter.  The  Puritans,  in 
spite  of  their  more  fearful  hardships,  took  nothing,  not  a 
bushel  of  corn,  not  an  acre  of  land,  without  making  compensa 
tion.  The  Indians  immediately  surrounding  them  were  ruled 
by  Massasoit.  With  him  the  Pilgrims  made  a  treaty,  and  by 
him  it  was  faithfully  kept  for  forty  years. 

This  treaty,  though  carefully  regarded  in  letter  and  spirit 
by  the  Pilgrims  themselves,  was  not  so  well  kept  by  their 
descendants.  They  gradually  narrowed  Massasoit's  territory 
and  encroached  on  his  rights.  He  had  formally  submitted  to 
the  English  king  and  laws.  Every  time  a  horse  was  stolen  or 
a  hen-roost  pilfered,  every  time  an  Indian  boy  got  into  a  quar 
rel  with  his  white  playmates,  old  Massasoit  was  summoned  to 
Plymouth  to  be  tried  in  court  for  breach  of  faith.  To  these 
things  he  had  submitted  quietly,  and  his  prestige  and  influence 
which  had  kept  loyal  his  own  subject  tribes,  gradually  waned. 


PEALING  OUT  THE  FIVE  KERNELS  OF  CORN. 


THE  FATE  OF  PHILIP.  125 

In  1661  Massasoit  was  gathered  to  his  fathers.  His  two 
sons,  Alexander  and  Philip,  had  been  deeply  impressed  by  the 
decline  of  their  father's  power  and  the  alarming  increase  of  the 
English.  They  represented  the  younger  and  more  radical  ele 
ment  of  their  people.  Alexander  succeeded  to  the  sachemship. 
The  colonists  were  shrewd  enough  to  see  the  change  in  the 
Wampanoags.  They  detected  a  more  independent  air  in  the 
braves,  and  a  less  friendly  disposition  in  their  chief. 

It  was  decided  to  summon  Alexander  before  the  Plymouth 
court  to  answer  charges  of  plotting  against  the  colony.  The 
young  chief  refused  to  come.  Greatly  excited,  the  English  sent 
an  armed  force  to  arrest  him.  He  was  marched  to  Plymouth 
with  the  muzzle  of  a  gun  against  his  head.  His  rage  knew  no 
bounds.  The  indignity  offered  him  crushed  his  kingly  spirit. 
He  was  taken  alarmingly  ill,  the  effect  of  his  fury- and  his 
grief.  The  Indians  begged  to  take  him  home.  The  privilege 
was  granted,  but  he  never  reached  Mount  Hope.  While  on  the 
way  his  brief  and  bitter  reign  was  ended  by  death.  This  event 
filled  the  hearts  of  his  people  with  sullen  hate.  They  believed 
him  to  have  been  poisoned  by  the  English. 

Philip  of  Mount  Hope,  one  of  the  few  Indians  who  is 
acknowledged  by  the  white  men  to  have  been  truly  great,  suc 
ceeded  his  brother.  His  determination  was  made  to  have 
revenge  and  drive  the  English  from  the  country.  But  this 
great  scheme  required  time.  He  renewed  the  treaty  with  the 
English  and  sought  in  every  way  to  allay  their  suspicion.  It 
was  a  work  of  years  to  restore  to  his  people  their  supremacy 
and  power,  but  in  time  his  superior  diplomacy  placed  him  at 
the  head  of  nearly  all  the  tribes  of  New  England. 

The  Mohegans  alone  remained  faithful  to  the  English. 
Philip  exerted  every  effort  to  accumulate  guns  and  ammunition 
for  his  warriors.  His  men  became  expert  marksmen,  and  con 
tinually  practiced  athletic  exercises,  all  in  pursuit  of  their  com 
mon  purpose.  So  carefully  were  these  preparations  concealed 
that  the  colonists  did  not  suspect  Philip  until  1671.  At  that 


126  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

time  the  frequent  assemblies  of  Indians,  their  incessant  grinding 
of  hatchets,  the  mysterious  threats  and  insolent  manners  of  the 
savages,  who  had  for  sixty  years  lived  as  the  colonists'  neigh 
bors  and  friends,  were  too  plain  to  be  misunderstood. 

Philip  was  summoned  to  explain  his  conduct.  He  refused 
to  come  unless  accompanied  by  his  men.  The  conference  took 
place  in  the  meeting-house  at  Taunton.  On  one  side  of  the 
house  were  ranged  Philip's  ferocious  warriors.  Their  long  black 
hair,  their  eyes  glittering  with  treachery  and  hate,  their  fan 
tastic  plumes  and  decorations  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
prim  and  austere  Puritans,  with  plain  garb,  close-cut  hair,  and 
solemn  countenances,  as  they  ranged  themselves  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  church.  Philip  claimed  that  his  military  prepara 
tions  were  for  war  with  the  Narragansetts.  Evidence  was  at 
hand,  hoVever,  to  show  that  he  was  on  better  terms  with  their 
people  than  ever  before,  and  had  been  planning  an  attack  on  the 
colony.  His  plans  were  by  no  means  ripe,  and  he  denied  any 
hostile  purposes,  signed  a  new  treaty,  and  agreed  to  surrender 
all  his  guns.  He  is  said  to  have  been  frightened  into  this  agree 
ment,  but  his  history  is  written  only  by  his  foes.  Seventy  guns 
were  given  up  at  once,  but  the  summer  wore  away  without  any 
more  being  surrendered. 

At  last  Philip  was  notified  from  Plymouth  that,  unless  the 
arms  were  given'  up  by  September  13th,  resort  would  be  had  to 
force  to  compel  the  act.  Messengers  were  also  dispatched  to 
the  great  and  wealthy  Massachusetts  colony,  at  Boston,  to 
secure  its  co-operation.  Philip,  shrewd  enough  to  have  per 
ceived  the  jealousy  and  rivalry  between  the  two  colonies,  set 
off  at  once  to  Boston.  With  the  rarest  diplomacy  he  flattered 
the  Massachusetts  colony  by  certain  territorial  concessions,  and 
made  such  an  adroit  statement  of  his  case,  representing  that 
Plymouth  had  encroached  on  the  other  colonies  by  summoning 
him  for  trial  before  her  own  court,  and  virtually  declaring  war 
without  consulting  them,  that  the  Bostonians  not  only  refused 
to  help  Plymouth,  but  coolly  criticised  her  action  as  wrong  and 


THE  FATE  OF  PHILIP.  127 

unwarrantable.  The  dispute  was  referred  to  mediators.  Philip, 
bent  on  gaining  further  time  for  his  plans  and  preparations, 
signed  a  new  treaty,  and  for  three  years  nothing  further 
occurred  to  bring  on  a  collision. 

The  three  years  were  used  by  the  sachem  to  concert  a  most 
elaborate  plan  for  the  extermination  of  the  English.  Ancient 
enmities  were  forgotten.  All  New  England  tribes  were  to  unite 
in  a  confederacy  of  which  Philip  was  to  be  the  chief.  The  Nar- 
ragansetts  alone  were  to  furnish  four  thousand  warriors.  The 
spring  of  1676  was  fixed  for  the  destruction  of  the  colonists. 
But  an  accident  brought  on  the  war  at  an  earlier  date,  and 
before  Philip's  arrangements  were  complete. 

Among  the  "praying  Indians,"  converts  of  the  Rev.  John 
Elliot,  was  a  savage  named  Sassamon,  who  had  received  an 
English  education,  and  acted  for  a  while  as  a  teacher.  Philip, 
needing  a  secretary  to  write  his  letters,  employed  Sassamon, 
who  was  thus  admitted  to  the  confidence  of  the  sachem,  and 
learned  his  bloody  plans.  Partly  owing  to  Elliot's  persuasions 
to  resume  Christianity,  from  which  he  had  apostatized  while 
with  Philip,  partly  from  a  quarrel  with  his  chief,  Sassamon 
resigned  his  position  and  informed  the  colonists  of  the  conspir 
acy.  Although  secrecy  was  pledged,  the  wily  Philip  found  out 
the  betrayal. 

One  winter  morning  Sassamon  was  missing.  His  hat  and 
gun  were  found  near  a  hole  in  the  ice  on  a  deep  pond.  His 
body  was  recovered  and  exhibited  marks  of  violence.  Three 
Indians  were  arrested  as  the  murderers.  Guilty  or  innocent, 
the  three  wretches  were  hung. 

Philip  continued  to  organize  his  army.  Strange  Indians 
enlisted  by  hundreds.  When  the  colonists  mildly  remonstrated 
he  replied  with  insults.  Awashonks,  the  squaw  sachem  or 
queen  of  one  of  the  tribes,  sent  word  to  Plymouth  that  Philip 
wanted  her  to  unite  in  a  war.  Philip  himself  had,  for  several 
weeks,  been  holding  a  war-dance  at  Mount  Hope.  Its  length 
indicated  the  greatness  of  the  conflict.  The  women  and  chil- 


128  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

dren  of  his  tribe  were  sent  away  to  be  cared  for  by  the  Narra- 
gansetts.  Just  before  the  outbreak,  John  Borden,  a  Rhode 
Island  man,  and  a  great  friend  of  Philip,  tried  to  dissuade  the 
Indian  monarch  from  war.  His  reply  is  remarkable  : 

"The  English  who  came  first  to  this  country  were  but  a 
handful  of  people,  forlorn,  poor,  and  distressed.  My  father  did 
all  in  his  power  to  serve  them.  Others  came.  Their  numbers 
increased.  My  father's  counselors  were  alarmed.  They  urged 
him  to  destroy  the  English  before  they  became  strong  enough 
to  give  law  to  the  Indians  and  take  away  their  country.  My 
father  was  also  the  father  to  the  English.  He  remained  their 
friend.  Experience  shows  that  his  counselors  were  right.  The 
English  disarmed  my  people.  They  tried  them  by  their  own 
laws,  and  assessed  damages  my  people  could  not  pay.  Some 
times  the  cattle  of  the  English  would  come  into  the  cornfields 
of  my  people,  for  they  did  not  make  fences  like  the  English. 
I  must  then  be  seized  and  confined  till  I  sold  another  tract 
of  my  country  for  damages  and  costs.  Thus  tract  after 
tract  is  gone.  But  a  small  part  of  the  dominion  of  my  ances 
tors  remains.  I  am  determined  not  to  live  till  I  have  no 
country." 

"  This,"  says  a  writer,  "  is  a  declaration  of  war  more  strik 
ing  in  its  origin,  more  true  in  its  statements,  than  any  with 
which  we  are  acquainted.  It  is  the  mournful  summary  of  accu 
mulated  wrongs  that  cry  aloud  for  battle,  not  for  revenge  alone, 
but  for  the  very  existence  of  the  oppressed.  It  is  the  sad  note 
of  preparation  sounded  by  a  royal  leader  that  summons  to  their 
last  conflict  the  aboriginal  lords  of  New  England." 

These  burning  words  were  followed  by  burning  deeds.  The 
pent-up  fury  of  his  people  could  no  longer  be  restrained.  The 
20th  of  June,  1675,  was  Sunday.  Eight  Indians,  bent  on  mis 
chief,  entered  the  little  settlement  of  Swanzey,  ransacked  a 
house,  and  shot  the  peaceful  cattle  pasturing  on  the  green.  In 
trying  to  prevent  them  from  forcing  their  way  into  his  house,  a 
settler  fired  at  and  wounded  one  of  the  savages,  who  went  sul- 


THE  FATE  OF  PHILIP.  129 

lenly  away  with  bloody  threats.  In  view  of  the  alarming  state 
of  affairs,  messengers  were  dispatched  to  Boston  and  Plymouth. 
Thursday,  the  24th,  was  appointed  as  a  day  of  fasting  and 
prayer. 

On  that  day  the  village  wore  the  stillness  of  a  Sabbath. 
The  pious  colonists  were  returning  with  thoughtful  faces  from 
the  log  church.  The  rough  street,  filled  with  stumps,  wound 
past  the  cabins  with  their  little  clearings  and  through  the  noon 
day  shadows  of  the  primeval  forests.  Suddenly  the  glint  of  a 
gun-barrel  shone  through  the  thicket — two  puffs  of  smoke,  two 
sharp  reports,  and  two  manly  forms,  clad  in  their  sober  gray, 
lay  prostrate  forever.  The  Puritans  were  dumb  with  horror. 
Two  of  the  party  started  to  run  for  a  surgeon/  At  the  bend  of 
the  road  each  fell  dead  with  a  ball  in  his  heart.  In  a  moment 
red  flames  burst  through  the  roofs  of  a  dozen  cabins. 

Leaving  their  slain  in  the  street,  sixteen  men  and  fifty-four 
women  and  children  fled  to  a  large  house,  where  they  prepared 
for  defense.  Others  were  killed  in  attempting  to  reach  a  place 
of  safety.  One  story  comes  to  us  of  a  servant  girl  in  a  cabin, 
who  hid  two  little  children  under  a  brass  kettle,  fired  at  an 
Indian  entering  the  house,  and,  failing  to  kill  him,  beat  him  off 
by  throwing  live  coals  in  his  face,  so  that  he  was  found  in  the 
woods  dead  from  his  wounds. 

As  the  terrible  news  spread  like  wildfire  through  the  colo 
nies,  little  companies  of  men  were  quickly  raised.  The  houseful 
of  people  at  Swanzey  was  relieved.  From  every  direction  came 
news  of  other  outrages.  In  a  day  or  two  the  force  at  Swanzey 
numbered  over  a  hundred.  An  expedition  set  out  for  Mount 
Hope  to  attack  Philip.  On  the  way  were  seen  the  ashes  of 
many  a  cabin,  with  the  heads  and  hands  of  the  family  placed  in 
front  on  sharp  stakes.  Philip,  fearing  a  trap,  had  withdrawn 
from  the  little  peninsula  of  Mount  Hope,  and  the  expedition 
was  a  failure. 

The  war  quickly  became  general.  The  Indians  appeared  at 
various  points  at  once.  Isolated  cabins  were  fired  and  their 


130  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

occupants  murdered.  Men  were  shot  from  thickets  as  they 
galloped  along  the  highway.  Women  were  killed  as  they  went 
to  draw  water  from  the  well  or  gather  green  corn  in  the  fields. 
Everywhere  was  terror  and  apprehension. 

The  colonial  forces  fought  to  little  advantage.  The  Massa 
chusetts  and  Plymouth  troops,  under  different  commanders, 
failed  to  co-operate.  The  mode  of  Indian  warfare,  or  indeed, 
of  any  kind,  was  ill  understood.  One  company  insisted  on 
ransacking  a  large  tract  of  country  in  which  there  was  not  a 
sign  of  an  Indian.  Another  little  detachment  was  bent  on 
building  a  fort  at  Mount  Hope. 

Captain  Benjamin  Church  alone  seems  to  have  had  a  genius 
for  warfare.  With  sixteen  men  he  successfully  resisted  for  six 
hours  one  hundred  and  fifty  savages.  He  ridiculed  the  notion  of 
a  fort,  and  laughed  away  the  fears  of  his  undisciplined  men.  The 
great  difficulty  was  to  meet  the  Indians  in  force  and  strike  a 
decisive  blow.  A  deserting  Indian  offered  to  conduct  the  Ply 
mouth  troops  to  a  place  where  a  large  body  of  his  people  were 
.  encamped.  They  had  proceeded  about  two  miles  when  their 
gallant  captain  called  a  halt,  and  wanted  to  know  of  Church 
what  certainty  there  was  that  the  Indians  had  not  already  left 
the  camp.  Church  told  him  the  thing,  though  not  impossible, 
was  unlikely,  and  urged  an  advance.  "  If  I  was  sure  of  kill 
ing  all  the  enemy,  and  knew  that  I  must  lose  the  life  of  one 
of  my  men  in  this  action,  I  would  not  attempt  it,"  said  the 
chicken-hearted  commander.  "  Then,"  said  Church,  "  take  your 
men  to  the  windmill  in  Rhode  Island,  where  they  will  be  out 
of  danger  and  be  far  less  trouble  to  feed." 

Church,  with  a  small  detachment  of  men,  succeeded  in 
maneuvering  Philip  into  the  great  Pocasset  swamp.  The  Mas 
sachusetts  troops  had  pushed  into  the  Narragansett  country, 
and  with  great  show  of  force  concluded  a  treaty  with  the  Nar- 
ragansetts,  which  they  observed  faithfully  so  long  as  their  ene 
mies  were  in  sight.  The  united  forces  then  marched  on  Philip, 
who  still  lurked  in  the  great  swamp. 


THE  FATE  OF  PHILIP. 


131 


FIRST  SCENE  OF  PHIMP'S  WAR. 


The  English  supposed  that,  three  sides  of  the  swamp  being 
surrounded  with  water,  if  they  guarded  the  land  side,  when  his 
provisions  ran  out,  Philip  would  be  forced  to  surrender.  So  they 
built  a  fort  and  waited,  One  fine  morning  they  discovered  that 
the  game  had  fled.  Leaving  his  M,ES  10  ,0  . 30  40  50  *> 
starving  women  and  children  to 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  En 
glish,  Philip  and  his  warriors, 
under  cover  of  night,  had  es 
caped  by  swimming  the  river, 
and  were  on  their  way  north. 
Wetamoo,  the  widow  of  his 
brother  Alexander,  who  was 
ever  at  Philip's  side,  had  es 
caped  with  him. 

One  incident  of  this  period 
of  the  war  was  the  capture  of 
one  hundred  and  sixty  Indians,  and  their  sale  into  perpetual 
slavery  by  the  Plymouth  colony.  Strange  inconsistency  in  men 
whose  fathers  had  suffered  so  much  for  liberty!  A  force  of 
Massachusetts  troops  were  in  pursuit  of  Philip,  but  for  some 
reason  were  recalled  and  disbanded.  It  is  more  than  hinted 
that  this  failure  to  pursue  Philip,  while  in  his  enfeebled  condi 
tion,  grew  out  of  a  jealousy  of  the  Plymouth  colony,  and  a 
desire  in  the  Massachusetts  colony  to  magnify  her  own  services 
to  Plymouth  by  letting  Philip  annoy  her  longer.  The  history 
of  colonial  jealousies  is  a  monumental  proof  of  the  value  of  the 
nation. 

The  policy  of  Massachusetts  was  a  mistake.  She  sowed  the 
wind  and  reaped  the  whirlwind.  The  war  was  transferred  to 
her  own  borders.  A  thousand  happy  homes  were  destroyed 
from  the  face  of  the  earth  by  the  avenging  foe. 

Brookfield,  an  exposed  settlement  of  twenty  families,  suf 
fered  first.  Twenty  horsemen,  coming  to  its  defense,  were 
ambushed  in  a  deep  gully  through  which  their  road  ran,  and 


132  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

eleven  killed.  Frenzied  by  this  success,  three  hundred  In 
dians  rushed  into  the  settlement.  The  frightened  people  gath 
ered  for  defense  in  one  house.  From  the  window  they  saw 
the  torch  applied  to  their  homes,  rude,  but  dear  to  every 
heart.  In  an  hour,  every  cabin,  with  all  its  precious  little  col 
lection  of  household  furniture,  all  the  more  prized  because 
brought  over  from  the  old  home  in  England,  was  •  a  heap  of 
smoldering  embers. 

The  Indians  then  besieged  the  only  remaining  house,  the 
one  in  which  the  people  were  gathered.  Inside,  the  women 
fastened  feather-beds  to  the  walls  for  protection.  Outside,  the 
savages  exerted  their  infernal  ingenuity  to  fire  the  building. 
Long  torches  and  brands  were  thrown  on  the  roof.  One  night 
a  fire  was  built  against  the  very  door,  and  the  colonists  had  to 
rush  out  to  a  well  for  water  to  quench  the  flames.  A  cart  was 
filled  w.ith  hemp  and  combustibles,  fired,  and  pushed  against  the 
house,  but  a  heavy  rain  saved  it.  At  the  end  of  two  days,  the 
besieged  were  relieved  by  a  force  of  fifty  men  from  Boston. 
One  Englishman  and  eighty  Indians  had  been  killed.  This  sol 
itary  house  was  garrisoned  for  a  while,  and  then  the  settlement 
was  abandoned.  Its  site  again  became  a  part  of  the  surround 
ing  wilderness. 

Major  Willard,  who  had  marched  to  the  assistance  and  res 
cue  of  the  people,  suffered  military  censure  and  disgrace  for 
having  gone  there  instead  of  remaining  at  Hadley,  where  there 
were  no  Indians.  The  poor  man  died  of  a  broken  heart. 

The  fate  of  Brookfield  was  also  the  fate  of  Hatfield,  Deer- 
field,  Northfield,  North  Hampton,  Springfield,  and  Worcester. 
In  one  battle,  one  hundred  of  the  picked  soldiers  of  Massachu 
setts  were  slain. 

The  attack  on  Hadley,  on  September  1st,  affords  a  curious 
illustration  of  the  superstition  of  the  times.  This  town  had 
three  organized  companies  for  defense.  But  the  attack  took 
place  during  public  worship  on  Sabbath  morning,  and  the  panic- 
stricken  people  started  to  fly  in  the  wildest  confusion.  Sud- 


GOFFK  RALLYING  THE  MEN  OF  HADLEV. 


133 


THE  FATE  OF  PHILIP. 


135 


SECOND  SCENE 
OF  PHILIP'S  WAR. 


denly,  a  stranger  of  immense  stature,  with  flowing  white  hair,  and 
commanding  voice,  appeared  in  their  midst,  with  a  rallying  cry. 
His  strange  aspect  and  authoritative  manner  quickly  rallied  the 
frightened  colonists.  They  believed  him  to  be  an  angel  of  the 
Lord.  Men  fought  under  his  leadership  with  the  wildes.t  cour 
age,  and  after  a  bloody  battle  the  savages 
gradually  retreated  from  the  place. 

When  the  colonists  turned  to  look  for  their 
benefactor,  he  had  disappeared.  That  he  was 
a  supernatural  visitor  no  one  doubted.  It.  was 
a  part  of  the  age  to  believe  it.  It  is  to  be 
remembered  that  the  colonists  believed  in 
witchcraft,  and  burnt  many  a  man  and  woman 
at  the  stake  for  it.  They  had  sentenced  an 
Indian  to  death  for  killing  Sassamon,  on  the 
testimony  of  a  man,  that  when  the  corpse  of 
four  days  was  approached  by  the  Indian,  its 
wounds  commenced  bleeding  afresh.  They  believed  in  haunted 
houses,  in  legerdemain,  in  spooks.  No  story  of  an  old  woman 
riding  through  the  sky  on  a  broomstick,  or  of  an  Indian  with 
bow  and  arrows,  in  the  moon,  was  too  much  for  their  credulous 
imaginations. 

Six  years  after  the  attack  on  Hadley,  when  a  great  comet 
appeared  in  the  heavens,  the  whole  population  of  New  England 
abandoned  the  usual  tasks  of  life,  and  passed  their  days  and 
nights  in  horrified  prayer,  regarding  the  wild  visitor,  with  his 
flaming  tail  reaching  half  across  the  sky,  if  not  as  a  portent 
of  the  end  of  the  world,  at  least,  as  one  of  wars,  famine,  and 
the  plague.  The  dark,  but  romantic  genius  of  our  Hawthorne 
has  caught  the  gloomy  tints  of  early  New  England  superstition, 
and  woven  them  into  the  strange  web  of  his  thrilling  romances. 

So  the  story  of  the  angel  of  the  Lord,  who  had  saved  Had 
ley,  passed  into  the  traditions  of  the  place.  Years  afterward,  it 
was  discovered  that  the  stranger  was  one  of  Cromwell's  soldiers, 
a  regicide  judge,  who  had  aided  in  condemning  Charles  I  to  the 


136  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

scaffold.  He  had  lived  for  many  years,  during  the  Restoration 
of  the  Stuarts,  concealed  in  the  house  of  the  minister  of  Had- 
ley,  unknown  to  his  nearest  neighbors.  The  truth  was  scarcely 
less  strange  than  the  fiction.  But  when  once  the  mind  has 
clasped  a  slimy  superstition  to  its  bosom  no  logic  can  avail  to 
loosen  the  embrace.  The  good  people  of  Hadley  continued  to 
believe  the  myth. 

Hitherto  the  colonies  had  acted  independently  of  each 
other.  Their  only  hope  to  avoid  utter  destruction  lay  in  UNION. 
Commissioners  were  appointed  from  Massachusetts,  Plymouth, 
and  Connecticut,  to  form  a  confederation,  and  concert  united 
action.  They  called  for  a  thousand  troops. 

Each  colony  quickly  raised  her  quota.  No  uniform  and 
epaulets  were  necessary.  Every  man  with  a  gun  and  a  blanket 
was  equipped.  Though  it  was  the  dead  of  winter,  it  was 
determined  to  attack  the  Narragansetts  in  their  winter  quarters, 
where  four  thousand  warriors  Avere  preparing  to  join  Philip  in  the 
spring.  "Not  a  Wampanoag  nor  the  paring  of  a  Wampanoag's 
nail  shall  be  delivered  up,"  had  been  the  answer  of  their  haughty 
sachem,  Canonchet,  to  the  demand  for  a  surrender,  in  accordance 
with  the  treaty,  of  some  of  Philip's  men,  who  were  with  him. 

About  the  middle  of  December  the  expedition  of  twelve 
hundred  men,  under  General  Winslow,  set  out  through  the  snow 
for  Narragansett.  It  was  about 
one  o'clock  on  Sunday  after 
noon,  that  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  Narragansett  fort.  It  was 
on  high  ground,  in  the  center  of 
an  immense  swamp,  and  covered 
five  acres.  The  walls  were  an 
impenetrable  hedge,  with  pali 


sades  and  breastworks.     Within          THIRD  SCENE  OF  PHILIP'S  WAR" 
this  inclosure  were   five  hundred  solid  bullet-proof  log  houses. 
The  whole  plan  of  the  place  was  an  admirable  proof  of  Philip's 
genius  for  war. 


THE  FATE  OF  PHILIP.  137 

The  only  entrance  was  by  a  bridge,  consisting  of  the  trunk 
of  an  immense  tree  thrown  across  deep  water,  along  which 
persons  were  forced  to  walk  in  single  file.  This  bridge  was 
flanked  by  a  block-house. 

As  the  English  charged  on  the  entrance  the  deadly  fire 
from  the  block-house  again  and  again  repulsed  them.  Some 
crossed  the  tree  and  reached  the  inclosure,  only  to  fall  pierced 
by  a  dozen  balls  from  the  shrieking  savages  within.  At  last 
Church,  with  thirty  picked  men,  gained  a  foothold  behind  some 
logs  near  the  palisade,  and  rushed  into  the  inclosure.  In  a 
moment  they  were  supported  by  hundreds  more. 

Once  within  the  fort,  the  struggle  was  but  commenced.  The 
shrieks  of  the  savages  mingled  with-  the  roar  of  the  musketry. 
The  living  made  barricades  of  their  own  dead.  It  was  the 
great  struggle  of  New  England.  On  the  one  hand,  fought  three 
thousand  Indian  warriors,  inspired  by  every  feeling  of  patri 
otism,  hatred,  revenge,  the  sense  of  oppression,  and  love  for 
their  families.  They  fought  for  their  native  land.  On  the 
other,  were  the  colonists,  the  offspring  of  an  age  of  intolerance 
and  fanaticism,  of  war  and  revolution.  Exiled  from  their 
native  land,  these  men  of  iron  had  wrought  out  for  themselves 
rude  homes  in  the  wilderness.  Unless  they  could  maintain  their 
settlements  in  New  England  against  the  savages,  there  was  no 
place  under  the  bending  sky  where  they  might  live  in  liberty 
and  peace.  The  inhospitable  earth  would  disown  her  children. 

So  they  fought,  nerved  by  thought  of  wife  and  child,  by  the 
memory  of  the  past,  by  the  hopes  of  the  future.  The  ground 
within  the  palisade  was  red  with  bloody  mire.  For  three  hours 
the  conflict  raged  without  decisive  result.  The  slaughter  on 
both  sides  was  immense.  The  English  could  not  be  driven 
from  the  fort,  nor  could  they  dislodge  their  foes.  At  this  point 
a  battle  which  had  also  been  raging  without  the  fort  turned  in 
favor  of  the  English.  The  victors  pursued  their  foes  within  the 
palisade.  The  ammunition  of  the  Indians  ran  low.  A  cry  arose 
among  the  English  to  fire  the  wigwams. 


138  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  scene  was  terrific.  To  the  din  of  battle  were  added 
the  dull  and  thunderous  roar  of  the  flames,  and  the  shrieks  and 
wailings  of  old  men,  women,  and  children,  who,  unable  to  escape 
through  the  murderous  volleys  of  the  English,  were  driven  back 
to  be  roasted  alive  in  the  fiery  furnaces. 

Wilder  and  wilder  grew  the  conflict.  The  combatants  no 
longer  fought  as  men  but  as  demoniacs.  Quarter  was  neither 
asked  nor  given.  Corpses  were  piled  up  in  vast  heaps.  Little 
by  little  the  English  advanced.  Little  by  little  the  Indian  fire 
slackened.  When  night  closed  in  with  a  heavy  snow  storm,  the 
English  were  left  masters  of  the  fort.  The  savages  retreated 
to  the  gloomy  and  smoky  depths  of  the  swamp,  where  many 
perished  with  the  cold. 

The  colonists  had  since  day-break  marched  sixteen  miles, 
and  fought  a  terrible  battle,  all  without  a  mouthful  of  food.  But 
they  had  yet  to  retrace  their  steps,  in  the  darkness,  through  a 
dense  forest,  a  deep  snow  beneath  their  feet,  and  a  December 
storm  roaring  through  the  leafless  trees.  By  the  glare  of  five 
hundred  smoldering  wigwams,  they  collected  their  dead  and 
wounded,  and  wearily  trudged  away  into  the  forest.  As  the 
exhausted  men  stumbled  along  over  the  rough  ground,  bearing 
their  slain,  many  a  brave  comrade  sank  down  by  the  way  to 
rise  no  more.  Soon  after  the  colonial  army  dispersed. 

It  was  too  soon  to  have  disbanded.  The  power  of  the 
Narragansetts  was  broken,  but  the  master  spirit  of  Philip  still 
survived.  The  course  of  the  war  was  hardly  checked  by  the 
great  swamp  fight.  In  the  early  spring  Philip  swept  the  coun 
try  from  one  end  to  the  other  with  resistless  fury.  Lancaster, 
Medfield,  Weymouth,  Groton,  Seekonk,  Providence,  and  Sud- 
bury  were  plundered  and  burnt.  In  one  action,  every  man  in 
a  company  of  seventy  picked  men  from  Plymouth  was  killed. 
It  was  no  longer  a  war  of  conquest.  It  was  a  war  of  exter 
mination. 

Once  a  colonist  was  on  one  side  of  a  rock,  an  Indian  on  the 
other,  watching  their  opportunities  to  kill  each  other.  The  colo- 


THE  FATE  OF  PHILIP.  139 

nist  put  his  hat  on  the  end  of  his  gun  and  carefully  raised  it 
a  little  above  the  top  of  the  rock.  The  Indian,  thinking  it  was 
the  head  of  his  foe,  instantly  fired  at  the  object.  In  a  moment 
the  colonist  left  his  hiding-place,  and  shot  the  Indian  who  had 
uselessly  emptied  his  gun.  Another  time  an  Indian  was  sepa 
rated  from  his  white  antagonist  by  the  upturned  roots  and 
clinging  earth  of  a  fallen  tree.  The  savage  cautiously  dug 
a  little  hole  through  the  mass  of  earth,  presented  the  muzzle 
of  his  gun,  and  shot  his  antagonist  dead. 

The  prospects  of  the  colonies  had  never  seemed  so  dark. 
From  every  direction  came  reports  of  disaster  and  defeat.  A 
new  call  for  men  was  made.  The  settlements  were  literally 
drained  of  their  defenders.  A  happy  stroke  turned  the  tide 
somewhat-  in  their  favor.  Canonchet,  the  great  chief  of  the 
Narragansetts,  Philip's  principal  captain  and  a  masterful  war 
rior,  was  surprised  and  captured  by  a  party  of  English.  He  was 
offered  his  life  on  condition  of  bringing  about  a  peace,  but  the 
suggestion  was  scornfully  rejected.  When  informed  that  he 
must  die,  he  made  this  memorable  answer:  "/  like  it  well:  1 
shall  die  before  my  heart  is  soft,  or  I  have  said  any  thing  unworthy 
of  myself T  Because  he  had  refused  to  violate  the  laws  of  hos 
pitality  by  surrendering  his  friends,  the  Wampanoags,  his  father 
had  been  murdered,  his  warriors  slain  by  the  hundred,  his 
women  and  children  burnt  alive  in  the  flaming  wigwams  of  the 
fort.  Yet  for  all  this  he  uttered  not  a  word  of  reproach. 
Scorning  to  save  his  life  by  the  submission  of  his  people  to 
such  conquerors,  he  calmly  folded  his  arms  across  his  kingly 
breast,  and  with  head  erect  and  cheek  unblanched,  received  the 
fatal  bullets  to  his  heart.  In  all  the  lore  of  chivalry  and  war 
there  can  be  found  no  more  heroic  soul.  % 

As  the  summer  wore  on,  though  the  ferocity  of  the  Indian 
ravages  was  not  abated,  yet  influences  were  at  work  which  were 
surely  undermining  the  power  of  Philip.  Having  had  their  stored 
corn  destroyed  by  the  English,  and  being  prevented  from  planting 
new  crops  by  the  desolation  of  war,  his  warriors,  to  escape  star- 


140  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

vation,  had  changed  their  diet  almost  entirely  to  meat.  This 
caused  many  to  fall  a  prey  to  disease.  The  allied  tribes  mur 
mured  loudly,  saying  that  Philip  had  promised  them  much  plun 
der;  but,  instead,  they  had  gained  nothing  by  this  war,  save 
hardship  and  suffering  and  the  enmity  of  the  English.  Philip's 
foresight  of  the  future  of  his  people,  unless  the  encroachments 
of  the  English  were  forever  stopped,  was  not  shared  by  the 
common  Indian.  It  was  not  the  first  nor  the  last  time  that  a 
blind  mob  rejected  the  wisdom  of  leaders*. 

These  murmurings  soon  blazed  into  open  quarrels.  Nothing 
fails  like  failure.  The  fights  began  to  result  favorably  for  the 
colonists.  Offers  of  peace  were  made  to  all  who  would  submit, 
and  various  bands  of  Indians  began  to  accept  these  offers.  The 
English  were  about  to  succeed  in  spite  of  their  own  folly.  Their 
troops  were  without  discipline,  and  openly  threatened  their 
inefficient  commanders.  Church,  who  had  inspired  every  success 
ful  movement,  had  been  deposed  from  command  and  dismissed 
from  the  service,  for  opposing  the  sale  of  Indians  into  slavery. 
He  was  recalled,  however,  in  June,  and  went  alone  to  Awas- 
honks,  queen  of  the  Saconets,  and  negotiated  a  treaty  of  peace. 
Not  only  this,  but  the  Saconets  entered  the  English  army,  and 
fought  faithfully  till  the  close  of  the  war. 

This,  and  several  other  distinguished  successes,  forced  the 
jealous  colonists  to  enlarge  the  powers  of  Captain  Church, 
giving  him  authority  to  raise  men  and  make  peace  or  levy 
war,  just  as  he  thought  best.  With  a  large  force  of  Indians 
and  a  few  whites,  Church  toiled  day  and  night,  now  surprising 
and  capturing  a  large  force  of  Philip's  warriors,  now  making 
peace  with  his  allies,  now  squarely  whipping  them  in  open  fight. 
The  English  method  of  warfare  was  abandoned.  He  fought  the 
Indians  with  their  own  methods.  On  a  half  dozen  different  occa 
sions  he  made  captures  of  over  two  hundred  men.  Once  he  was 
unable  to  leave  a  guard  for  his  prisoners  while  he  went  into 
battle.  He  told  them  that,  if  they  attempted  flight,  he  would 
shortly  recapture  them,  and  inflict  severe  punishment ;  but  if 


THE  FATE  OF  PHILIP.  141 

they  would  follow  him  and  not  run  off,  they  should  be  well 
treated.  Such  was  his  power  over  them  that,  after  the  fight, 
every  Indian  voluntarily  surrendered  again  as  a  prisoner. 

These  repeated  blows  hurried  on  the  final  crisis.  Philip, 
with  a  broken  and  disheartened  remnant  of  his  own  people, 
retired  to  a  swamp  near  his  old  home  of  Mount  Hope.  To 
Church  was  allotted  the  closing  act  in  the  tragedy.  Philip  was 
encamped  on  a  little  knoll  in  the  swamp.  Church,  foreseeing 
that  flight  would  be  attempted,  silently  posted  his  men  in  the 
swamp,  so  as  to  completely  encircle  the  knoll.  Philip  was 
sitting  on  a  log,  relating  to  a  friend  a  troubled  dream  which  he 
had  had,  omen  of  his  approaching  fate. 

At  the  first  fire  the  Indians  fled.  Philip  ran  right  towards 
an  ambush  of  the  English.  A  Saconet  Indian  fired.  With  a 
terrific  leap  in  the  air,  the  great  captain  of  Mount  Hope  fell 
dead,  a  fulfillment  of  the,  prophecy  of  his  people  that  Meta- 
comet  should  never  fall  by  English  hands.  The  corpse  was 
dragged  out  of  the  swamp;  the  head  sent  to  Plymouth,  where 
it  was  set  up  on  a  gibbet  for  twenty  years;  the  body  quartered 
and  nailed  to  four  trees,  a  terrible  exhibition  of  the  barbarism 
of  the  age.  All  of  Philip's  principal  friends  were  executed  or 
sold  into  slavery,  and  shipped  to  the  West  Indies.  This  last 
was  the  fate  of  young  Metacomet,  Philip's  only  son. 

"Such,"  said  Edward  Everett,  "was  the  fate  of  Philip. 
He  had  fought  a  relentless  war,  but  he  fought  for  his  native 
land,  for  the  mound  that  covered  the  bones  of  his  parents;  he 
fought  for  his  squaw  and  papoose;  no — I  will  not  defraud  them 
of  the  sacred  names  which  our  hearts  understand;  he  fought 
for  his  wife  and  child." 

Philip  of  Mount  Hope  was  a  great  man.  He  proved  him 
self  so,  both  in  diplomacy  and  war.  He  foresaw  the  dark 
destiny  of  his  people,  and  held  himself  completely  aloof  from 
the  insinuating  influence  of  the  English,  who  had  so  infatuated 
his  father.  Before  the  war,  Rev.  John  Elliot,  of  the  Massa 
chusetts  colony,  the  great  apostle  to  the  Indians,  made  the 

8 


142  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

most  persistent  efforts  to  induce  Philip  to  embrace  Christianity. 
The  courtly  savage  had  always  received  his  arguments  and 
persuasions  politely,  but  without  other  effect.  One  day  he  took 
hold  of  a  button  on  Elliot's  threadbare  coat,  and  said :  "  I  care 
no  more  for  your  religion  than  I  do  for  that  old  button.  Let  me 
hear  no  more  about  it." 

The  Puritan  imagination  pictured  Philip  and  his  warriors  as 
infernal  fiends.  But  fifty  years  later  the  descendants  of  those 
who  nailed  his  quartered  corpse  to  trees,  and  sold  his  child 
into  burning  slavery,  learned  to  understand  him  better.  He 
was  a  hero,  a  patriot,  who  suffered  much.  His  people  were 
destroyed.  A  handful  of  his  warriors  escaped  to  the  far  West, 
and  joined  La  Salle  at  Fort  St.  Louis.  But  the  proud  name  of 
the  Wampanoags  was  buried  in  oblivion. 

With  the  close  of  the  war,  the  bruised  and  bleeding  colonies 
began  to  survey  the  extent  of  their  sufferings.  Between  fifteen 
and  twenty  towns  had  been  destroyed  from  the  face  of  the 
earth  by  the  swift  and  terrible  vengeance  of  Philip.  A  few 
charred  timbers,  and  a  heap  of  ashes  marked  the  site  of  many 
a  lonely  farm  house.  Among  the  ashes  often  lay  the  bleaching 
bones  of  its  defenders.  The  mangled  remains  of  the  little  herd 
of  cattle  lay  scattered  about  the  pasture,  while  overhead  slowly 
circled  on  wide  extended  pinions,  the  black  and  ominous  birds 
of  prey.  Now  and  then  a  bedraggled  and  sickly  chicken,  weak 
ened  by  starvation,  sole  survivor  of  the  desolation,  tottered 
feebly  around  the  yard,  listening,  waiting  for  the  kindly  call  to 
feasts  of  yellow  grain  that  never  came.  The  fields  so  hardly 
won  by  cruel  toil  and  valiant  struggle  from  the  unwilling 
forest,  lay  desolate  and  abandoned. 

Hardly  a  family  was  there  in  all  the  colonies  from  which  a 
father  or  a  son  had  not  gone  out  to  battle  to  return  no  more 
forever.  There  were  few  cripples.  Their  enemy  had  seldom 
wounded  except  unto  death.  The  war  had  been  a  destroyer, 
with  one  exception.  In  that  it  was  a  creator.  It  had  created 
for  the  colonies  a  debt  of  half  a  million  dollars. 


DEATH  OF  KING  PHILIP. 


THE  FATE  OF  PHIL  I P. 


145 


"New  England  had  suffered  terribly.  Six  hundred  men,  the 
flower  and  pride  of  the  country,  had  fallen  in  the  field.  Hun 
dreds  of  families  had  been  butchered  in  cold  blood.  Gray- 
haired  sire,  mother,  and  babe,  had  sunk  together,  under  the 
vengeful  blow  of  the  red  man's  gory  tomahawk.  Now  there 
was  peace  again.  The  Indian  race  was  swept  out  of  New 
England.  The  tribes  beyond  the  Connecticut  came  humbly 
submissive,  and  pleaded  for  their  lives.  The  colonists  returned 
to  their  desolated  farms  and  villages  to  build  new  homes  in  the 
ashes  of  old  ruins." 

But  the  vitality  of  the  colonies  was  inexhaustible.  The 
ordinary  tasks  of  life,  sowing  and  reaping,  bartering  and  manu 
facturing,  were  resumed  with  tireless  zeal  and  vigor.  In  a  few 
years  the  crimson  footprints  of  the  war  were  effaced,  and  peace 
and  prosperity  smiled  throughout  the  land. 


SCENE  OF  PHILIP'S  OPERATIONS  IN    NEW  ENGLAND. 


146 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES. 

HE  British  Lion  and  the  Lilies  of  France  !  Such 
were  the  emblems  of  the  two  terrible  antago 
nists  on  either  side  of  the  English  channel,  who 
were  to  contend  for  the  incomparable  prize  of 
the  North  American  continent.  Through  cent 
uries  of  hate  their  armies  had  fought  on  the 
blood-soaked  soil  of  Europe.  When  the  hardy 
English  colonies  took  root  along  the  narrow 
fringe  of  coast  between  the  Alleghanies  and  the  sea,  France, 
planting  herself  on  the  discoveries  of  La  Salle,  silently  stretched 
out  the  rod  of  empire  over  the  vast  American  interior.  The  old 
feud  had  fastened  its  fangs  upon  the  New  World. 

The  difference  between  the  two  nations  was  strikingly  mani 
fest  in  America.  The  English  colonies  were,  from  the  first,  neg 
lected  by  their  government  and  thrown  on  their  own  resources. 
The  French  were  supported  by  royal  bounty,  and  nourished 
with  grants  of  power.  The  English  founded  free  institutions ; 
every  man  owned  his  own  cabin  and  plat  of  ground;  their  gov 
ernment  was  of  the  people  and  by  the  people.  The  French 
transplanted  the  coarsest  feudalism ;  a  few  nobles  owned  the 
soil,  while  the  remainder  of  the  population  were  mere  tenants. 
The  principal  occupation  of  the  Englishman  was  agriculture,  keep 
ing  him  closely  at  home,  while  the  Frenchman  relied  mainly  on 
the  fur  trade,  and  with  his  articles  of  traffic  traversed  the  rivers 
and  forests  of  the  entire  continent.  The  English  ministers 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  149 

preached  the  Gospel  only  to  the  savages  within  call  of  their 
colonies;  but  the  burning  zeal  of  the  Catholic  Jesuit  carried 
him  to  the  remotest  forests.  The  English  were  acquainted  only 
with  the  Indians  of  their  immediate  neighborhood,  while  the 
Frenchmen  insinuated  themselves  into  the  wigwams  of  every 
tribe  from  the  lakes  to  the  gulf.  On  summer  evenings  they 
danced  with  the  squaws  who  visited  their  posts  at  Vincennes 
and  elsewhere,  and  made  the  places  ring  with  their  merriment. 
The  English  aimed  only  at  making  for  themselves  and  their 
children  comfortable  homes  of  liberty  and  peace,  and  held  them 
selves  sternly  aloof  from  the  natives.  The  French  ambition 
was  military  empire.  To  achieve  this  they  spared  no  effort  and 
neglected  no  art  to  win  the  love  and  alliance  of  the  red  men. 

The  great  question  of  the  boundaries  of  the  respective 
dominions  was  enough  to  have  brought  on  war  of  itself,  with 
out  the  help  of  immemorial  hostility  and  the  essential  antag 
onism  of  opposite  institutions  and  religions.  In  the  numerous 
wars  between  France  and  England  these  questions  had,  up  to 
1753,  never  been  settled.  France  claimed  the  right  to  all  the 
territory  west  of  the  ridges  of  the  Alleghanies.  The  English 
colonies,  on  the  other  hand,  claimed  that  their  territories  reached 
between  the  same  parallels  of  latitude  which  they  occupied  on 
the  Atlantic  coast,  westward  to  the  Mississippi  River.  In  the 
actual  military  occupation  of  the  territory,  the  French  were  far 
ahead  of  their  slower  and  less  ambitious  rivals.  They  had 
dotted  the  wilderness  with  log  forts  before  the  English  turned 
their  heavy  eyes  to  the  fair  domain  beyond  the  mountains. 

When  in  1754  came  the  shock  of  battle,  the  Indians,  with 
few  exceptions,'  were  the  allies  of  France.  A  large  number  of 
Scotch,  Irish,  Germans,  and  English  had  from  time  to  time 
pushed  the  line  of  settlements  into  the  fertile  valleys  of  the 
Alleghanies,  and  even  beyond  the  mountains. 

A  young  Virginian,  George  Washington,  making  an  explor 
ing  tour,  found  French  forts  frowning  with  cannon,  and  was 
informed  that  France  proposed  to  seize  every  settler  west  of 


150 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


the  mountains.  On  hearing  this,  Virginia  placed  this  explorer 
at  the  head  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  undisciplined  men  who  were 
to  protect  the  settlers,  and  in  particular  kill  every  Frenchman 
who  interfered  with  the  new  fort,  which  an  English  company 
was  building  at  the  forks  of  the  Ohio.  Before  Washington 

reached  there,  a  force  of  French 
and  Indians  had  captured  the 
unfinished  fort,  completed  it  for 
themselves,  and  named  it  Fort 
du  Quesne.  A  force  was  dis 
patched  against  the  approaching 
band  of  Englishmen,  who  were 
intrenched  at  Fort  Necessity. 
When  the  enemy  was  discovered 
Washington  gave  the  command 
"Fire!"  That  word  kindled  the 
world  into  a  flame. 

"Thus   began  that  memorable 


120       150     'JOT       210      240 


FIRST  SCENE  OF  THE  FRENCH  AND  INDIAN 
WAR. 


war,"  writes  an  eloquent  historian, 
"  which,  kindling  among  the  wild  forests  of  America,  scattered 
its  fires  over  the  kingdoms  of  Europe,  and  the  sultry  empire  of 
the  Great  Mogul ;  the  war  made  glorious  by  the  heroic  death 
of  Wolfe,  the  victories  of  Frederic,  and  the  marvelous  exploits 
of  Clive ;  the  war,  which  controlled  the  destinies  of  America, 
and  was  first  in  the  chain  of  events  which  led  her  on  to  revo 
lution,  with  all  its  vast  and  undeveloped  consequences.  On  the 
old  battle-ground  of  Europe,  the  struggle  bore  the  same  familiar 
features  of  violence  and  horror  which  had  marked  the  strife  of 
former  generations.  But  in  America  war  assumed  a  new  and 
striking  aspect.  A  wilderness  was  its  sublime  arena.  Army 
met  army  under  the  shadows  of  primeval  woods,  their  cannon 
resounded  over  wastes  unknown  to  civilized  man.  And  before 
the  hostile  powers  could  join  in  battle,  endless  forests  must  be 
traversed  and  morasses  passed,  and  everywhere  the  axe  of  the 
pioneer  must  hew  a  path  for  the  bayonet  of  the  soldier." 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  151 

Washington  and  his  little  band  were  driven  out  of  the  coun 
try  in  short  order.  When  heavy  sail  vessels  carried  the  news  to 
London  and  Paris,  each  government  dispatched  troops  to  their 
respective  colonies.  In  the  spring  of  1755  General  Braddock 
set  out  with  an  army  of  several  thousand  men  for  the  conquest 
of  Fort  du  Quesne.  The  army  was  composed  of  a  force  of 
British  regulars,  in  their  scarlet  uniforms  and  gay  trappings, 
and  of  levies  of  raw  troops  from  the  colonies. 

It  was  a  great  event  to  the  settlers.  From  far  and  near 
they  flocked  to  see  the  redcoats.  Every  colonist  along  the 
route  who  possessed  a  wagon  was  pressed  into  the  service  of 
hauling  provisions  for  the  mighty  host  which,  with  glittering 
banners,  wound  slowly  through  the  forests.  Settlers  who  had 
no  wagons  served  as  axemen  to  blaze  a  road  for  the  army. 
Every  neighborhood  sent  its  company.  Hundreds  of  men,  in 
advance  of  the  army,  toiled  day  and  night,  felling  trees,  burning 
thickets,  leveling  molehills,  and  bridging  streams,  preparing  a 
way  for  the  soldiery,  the  long  line  of  wagons,  and  the  ponderous 
cannon. 

It  was  a  Herculean  task.  The  veteran  troops  were  soon 
worn  out  in  this  new  mode  of  warfare.  Many  a  redcoat  fell 
dead  in  the  ranks,  pierced  by  a  ball  from  an  unseen  weapon. 
The  raw  yeomanry  in  advance  of  the  army  suffered  heavily. 
In  a  company  of  three  hundred,  raised  in  one  neighborhood, 
there  were  only  thirty  old-fashioned  guns.  Many  a  man, 
busily  swinging  his  ax,  and  left  behind  somewhat  by  his  com 
panions,  was  snatched  away  into  the  forest  by  swarthy  foes. 
Among  these  was  James  Smith,  of  whose  adventures  more  here 
after.  The  slow  advance  of  the  heavy  column  made  it  neces 
sary  for  twelve  hundred  picked  troops,  with  light  equipment,  to 
press  on,  leaving  the  rest  to  follow  more  slowly. 

At  Fort  du  Quesne  were  a  small  number  of  Frenchmen  and  a 
multitude  of  Indians  gathered  from  far  and  near.  On  the  9th  of 
July  Indian  scouts  reported  the  near  approach  of  the  British. 
Instantly  the  fort  became  a  pandemonium.  The  Indian  allies 


152 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


—  Prenc 
v  •  English 


SCENE  OF  BRADUOCK'S  DEFEAT. 


stamping,  yelling,  smearing  their  bodies  with  grease  and  gaudy 
paint,  were  harangued  by  their  chiefs,  and  wrought  into  a 
delirium  of  courage  and  fury.  Great  barrels  of  powder,  bullets, 
and  flints  were  hurriedly  rolled  into  the  parade-ground  and 
knocked  open,  while  the  frantic  _ 

throng  helped  themselves  to  what 
ever  they  wanted.  Shortly,  at  the 
word  "  March,"  there  formed  in  sin 
gle  file  and  issued  from  the  fort, 
two  hundred  white  men  and  eight 
hundred  Indians. 

Seven  miles  from  the  fort,  the 
narrow  road  along  which  the  British 
were  approaching,  wound  through 
a  dark  and  dangerous  defile  into 
which  opened  two  ravines.  Here 
their  foes  hid  in  deadly  ambush. 
When  the  splendid  column  of  British  regulars,  with  scarlet 
coats  and  gleaming  gun-barrels,  entered  the  defile  to  the  sound 
of  drums  and  the  blare  of  trumpets,  followed  by  the  less  regular 
ranks  of  ununiformed  colonists,  not  a  soul  suspected  that, 
behind  every  tree  and  fallen  log,  in  the  thick  underbrush 
and  in  the  shadow  of  mossy  rocks,  lurked  deadly  and  terrible 
enemies. 

Suddenly  a  volley  of  shots,  followed  by  a  wild,  discordant 
clamor,  was  heard  at  the  front.  Quickly  a  hundred  commands 
of  "  Halt,"  were  shouted  along  the  line.  The  troops,  far  ahead 
in  the  ravine,  were  seen  to  fire.  In  a  moment,  the  Indians  on 
either  side  of  the  column  throughout  its  entire  length,  poured 
in  a  deadly  fire  at  point-blank  range.  Not  an  enemy  could  be 
seen,  though  the  forest  resounded  with  their  yells,  and  every 
bush  and  tree  blazed  with  the  flash  of  their  weapons.  The 
troops,  insane  with  panic,  fired  wildly  in  the  air.  The  narrow 
defile  was  choked  with  their  slain.  Vainly  the  heroic  officers 
sought  to  rally  their  men.  Again  and  again  they  endeavored  to 


DEATH  OF  BRADDOCK 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  155 

get  them  to  form  in  small  detachments  and  drive  the  enemy 
from  the  woods.  But  the  brave  young  officers  would  advance 
but  a  few  steps  at  their  head  to  find  themselves  forsaken  by 
their  men. 

Almost  two  hours  the  conflict  raged.  Steadily  the  Indians 
kept  up  their  fire  till  seven  hundred  out  of  the  army  of  twelve 
hundred  men  were  slain.  Then  the  remainder  turned  and  fled, 
leaving  their  dead  and  all  their  splendid  equipment  of  cannon, 
small  arms,  wagons,  tents,  and  clothing  piled  in  bloody  ruin  in 
the  defile.  Here  General  Braddock  was  mortally  wounded,  and 
here  his  aid-de-camp,  George  Washington,  calm  amid  the  storm 
of  death  and  disaster,  won  that  reputation  which  afterward 
caused  him  to  be  appointed  commander-in-chief  of  the  armies 
of  the  Revolution. 

When  the  British  fled,  the  Indians  sprang  wildly  from. their 
ambush  to  feast  upon  the  banquet  of  blood.  Like  fiends,  like 
monsters,  like  wild  beasts,  like  incarnations  of  all  the  raging  and 
hellish  passions  of  the  human  heart,  they  leaped  upon  the  slain. 
They  scalped  the  corpses,  crushed  in  their  skulls  with  toma 
hawks,  jumped  on  the  breasts  and  stamped  in  the  ribs,  tore  out 
the  vitals,  and  wrenched  limb  from  limb  and  member  from  mem 
ber.  Their  uproar  was  different  from  the  yells  of  battle.  The 
forest  resounded,  but  it  was  to  a  guttural  roar,  several  notes 
below  the  war-whoop.  It  was  the  savage  fury  and  satisfaction 
of  wild  beasts  as  they  tear  and  mangle  their  bleeding  prey. 

At  last  the  shades  of  night  drew  their  curtain  around  the* 
fearful  scene.  At  last  the  gorge  of  blood  was  ended.  At  last 
the  horrid  appetites  were  appeased.  Smeared  from  head  to  foot 
with  the  gore  of  their  enemies,  decked  out  in  the  gay  uniforms 
of  the  soldiery,  carrying  the  guns  which  had  so  lately  been  aimed 
against  them,  and  dangling  the  reeking  scalps  of  their  foes  from 
their  belts,  the  Indian  warriors,  with  eye-balls  still  blood-shot 
with  the  frenzy  of  battle  and  voices  still  raised  in  boasts  and 
frantic  screams,  picked  their  reluctant  way,  one  by  one,  over  the 
mountains  to  their  expectant  squaws.  Just  seven  Indians  and 


156  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

four  Frenchmen  had  been  slain.  That  night  unwonted  fires 
blazed  on  the  banks  of  the  Alleghany  River  opposite  Fort  du 
Quesne.  The  groans  of  the  shrieking  victims,  who  had  fallen 
alive  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians,  pierced  the  night  and,  rising 
above  the  moan  of  the  wind  and  the  roar  of  the  rushing  river, 
penetrated  even  to  the  fort,  as  the  torturing  flames  leaped  up 
and  walled  them  in. 

The  traveler  through  Pennsylvania  looks  out  upon  the 
prettiest  scenery  in  the  world.  Seated  in  the  palace-car  of  a 
lightning-express  train,  his  fascinated  eye  never  wearies  of  the 
swift  and  brilliant  panorama  which  paints  itself  in  changing 
splendors  on  the  plate-glass  window.  At  one  moment  he  looks 
with  awe  on  yawning  precipices  and  rugged  mountain  steeps,  in 
some  cleft  of  which  stands  a  little  house,  with  difficulty  kept 
from  tumbling  down  the  abyss.  Now  he  beholds  some  lovely 
valley,  decked  out  with  all  the  beauties  of  the  changing  seasons. 

In  this  warm  and  fertile  spot,  hemmed  in  by  lofty  mount 
ains,  are  smiling  farms  and  happy  homes.  Sleek  cattle  graze 
peacefully  in  pastures  green,  and  far  below  him,  looking  like  a 
toy,  stands  the  husbandman,  with  plow  and  team  afield,  pausing 
in  his  toil  to  watch  the  smoking  dragon  of  the  distant  train  in 
its  splendid  flight.  Far  as  the  traveler's  eye  can  reach  white 
villages  dot  the  sequestered  vale,  each  with  its  quiet  church  and 
noisy  school,  through  which  the  throngs  of  merry  children  troop 
all  day.  Anon  he  glides  along  the  shore  of  the  lovely 
Susquehanna,  whose  placid  surface  mirrors  sky  and  land 
scape  with  such  perplexing  accuracy  that  the  line  of  the  oppo 
site  shore,  where  the  water  ends  and  the  land  begins,  is 
indistinguishable. 

At  the  time  of  Braddock's  defeat  the  country  was  by  no 
means  so  different  from  the  above  as  one  might  think.  To  be 
sure,  the  railroads  and  bridges,  the  busy  factory  towns,  and  the 
perfectly  cultivated  farms  are  the  magical  handiwork  of  a  later 
day.  But  at  that  time  the  mountains  were  as  picturesque,  the 
skies  as  blue,  the  valleys  as  fertile,  the  streams  as  crystalline, 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  157 

the   climate   as  delightful  as  they  are   to-day.     For  all   these 
natural  endowments  the  colonist  had  an  eager  eye. 

For  fifty  years  the  settlers  had  been,  to  some  extent,  pass 
ing  by  the  more  crowded  and  sterile  shores  of  the  ocean  for 
this  splendid  interior  country.  In  1755  the  population  was 
sparse  and  unequally  distributed,  but  already  the  fertile  parts 
of  eastern  and,  to  some  extent,  central  Pennsylvania  were  occu 
pied  by  thousands  of  settlers.  The  houses  were  but  cabins, 
often  five  miles  apart.  A  town  consisted  of  little  more  than 
a  grist-mill,  a  blacksmith  shop,  and  a  meeting-house,  all  of  logs. 
But  for  the  sake  of  the  advantages  of  the  region,  the  coura 
geous  race  of  hardy  pioneers  had  left  their  more  cautious 
brethren  behind  and  braved  the  dangers  of  the  treacherous 
Indian  and  the  ravenous  beast. 

The  same  state  of  affairs  existed  in  Virginia  and  Maryland. 
The  country  was  full  of  Indians,  who  still  roamed  through  it  in 
quest  of  game,  but  these  were  gradually  withdrawing  toward 
the  west,  and  those  who  remained  gave  little  trouble  to  the 
pioneers.  No  danger  had  been  experienced  or  apprehended  for 
many  years,  and  the  settlers  made  and  cultivated  their  farms 
without  means  of  defense,  or  fears  of  interruption. 

The  arts  of  the  French,  however,  had,  as  we  have  said,  grad 
ually  won  the  Indians  to  their  support.  All  through  this  mag 
nificent  region,  as  well  as  among  the  ferocious  tribes  of  the  great 
west,  the  stolid  countenances  and  indifferent  manners  of  the  red 
men  concealed  a  bitter  jealousy  and  hatred  of  the  English,  who 
were  driving  the  game  from  their  forests  and  crowding  the  red 
men  off  of  their  ancestral  domain. 

The  defeat  of  Braddock  opened  the  flood-gates  of  fury.  The 
last  obstacle  was  removed.  The  red  tide  of  blood  rolled  in 
crimson  torrents,  unchecked,  over  the  fair  domain  of  which  we 
write.  The  true  history  of  the  time  has  never  been  written. 
The  general  historian  passes  it  over  with  a  few  lines,  stating 
that  for  three  years  the  whole  region  was  desolated  by  Indian 
warfare.  Nothing  more.  The  panics,  the  massacres,  the  burnings, 


158  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  tortures,  the  prayers  for  mercy,  the  uplifted  tomahawks,  the 
crushing  skulls, — all  these  are  omitted. 

The  farmer  plowing  in  his  fields,  the  wife  singing  over  her 
household  tasks,  the  red-cheeked,  laughing  children  romping 
through  the  orchard, — these  were  the  victims  of  a  war  whose 
ferocity  and  desolation  are  hardly  equaled  in  history.  War  is 
the  most  terrible  of  all  experiences.  But  there  are  varieties  of 
war.  The  conflict  of  armies  is  grand.  The  carnage  of  the  battle 
is  awful.  But  the  war  which  has  for  its  object,  not  the  destruc 
tion  of  a  military  force,  but  the  desolation  of  the  fireside,  the 
outrage  of  womanhood,  the  embitterment  of  childhood,  is  worse. 
It  is  harming  the  harmless.  It  is  wreaking  vengeance  upon 
innocence.  It  is  the  infinitude  of  wickedness. 

Measure,  if  you  can,  the  frantic,  maddening  grief  of  one  hus 
band,  returning  at  sunset  from  his  toil  in  the  forest,  to  find  the 
little  cabin  home  a  heap  of  embers,  and  his  precious  wife  a  mu 
tilated  corpse.  Conceive,  if  you  can,  the  heart-breaking  anguish 
of  one  mother,  as  she  sees  the  yelling  fiends  sink  the  tomahawk 
into  the  skull  of  her  sleeping  infant,  or  worse  yet,  sees  her 
children,  the  joy  and  pride  of  all  her  life,  torn  from  her  arms, 
and  carried  captive  to  the  distant  wigwams  of  the  west.  Imagine, 
if  it  be  possible,  the  tearful  sorrow,  the  blighting  loneliness  of 
one  childish  heart,  as  the  little  fellow,  running  in  glee  to  call  his 
father  to  the  evening  meal,  finds  the  fond  form  stretched  beside 
the  half-chopped  log,  stilled  forever  into  the  unresponsive  hush 
of  death.  Take  such  things  as  these.  Sound  with  line  and 
plummet  the  black  waves  of  agony  which  beat  in  restless  surge 
within  a  single  human  heart.  Then  multiply  this  by  all  the 
thousands  who  suffered  thus,  at  the  time  of  which  we  write. 
The  awful  sum  of  sorrow  will  reach  the  stars ! 

So  complete  was  the  work  of  the  savages,  as  for  three  years 
they  roamed  at  will  through  Pennsylvania,  Maryland,  and  Vir 
ginia,  that  few  were  left  alive  to  tell  the  story.  The  greater 
part  of  all  the  suffering  and  desolation  never  became  known  to 
history.  The  sufferers  died,  carrying  the  secret  of  their  fate 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  159 

with  them  into  oblivion.  Yet  in  spite  of  this,  the  busy  voice 
of  tradition  whispers  a  thousand  tales  of  horror. 

If  we  descend  from  the  stately  narrative  of  the  general  his 
torian  to  the  local  traditions  and  histories  of  counties  and  neigh 
borhoods,  we  find  every  one  rich  with  gloomy  traditions  of  the 
past.  Each  smiling  valley  has  its  stories  of  horror ;  each  moun 
tain  its  thrilling  legends.  Not  a  rippling  stream  is  there  whose 
waters  have  not  been  reddened  with  the  tide  of  massacre ;  not 
a  lonely  dell  from  which  the  moaning  wind  has  not  carried  the 
shrieks  and  pleadings  of  suffering  ones. 

Within  two  months  after  Braddock's  defeat,  the  work  of 
slaughter  began.  The  frontiers  were  open  and  defenseless.  The 
Indians  in  great  force  appeared  suddenly  in  Cumberland  county. 
From  this  point  their  detachments  swept  the  entire  country 
with  fire  and  sword.  The  inhabitants  fell  by  hundreds,  easy 
victims  to  savage  atrocities.  The  people,  living  in  the  greatest 
dread,  besought  the  government  at  Philadelphia  to  protect  them. 
On  October  29th,  1755,  John  Harris,  the  founder  of  Harrisburg, 
a  trader  of  great  energy  and  ability,  wrote  as  follows  to  the 
governor : 

"  We  expect  the  enemy  upon  us  every  day,  and  the  inhabi 
tants  'are  abandoning  their  plantations,  being  greatly  discouraged 
at  the  approach  of  such  a  number  of  cruel  savages,  and  no  sign 
of  assistance.  The  Indians  are  cutting  us  off  every  day,  and  I 
had  a  certain  account  of  about  fifteen  hundred  Indians,  besides 
French,  being  on  their  march  against  us  and  Virginia,  and  now 
close  on  our  borders,  their  scouts  scalping  our  families  on  our 
frontiers  daily.  .  .  "  .  Consider  our  terrible  situation,  and 
rouse  your  people  downwards,  and  not  let  about  fifteen  hundred 
villains  distress  such  a  number  of  inhabitants  as  is  in  Pennsyl 
vania.  They  now  have  many  thousands  of  bushels  of  our  corn 
and  wheat  in  possession  already." 

In  response  to  this  and  a  hundred  similar  appeals,  the  Legis 
lature  was  convened,  but  the  Quakers  who  composed  it  declared 
themselves  opposed  to  war,  and  refused  to  do  any  thing.  Mean- 


160  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

while  the  work  of  fire  and  slaughter  went  on.  In  Berks  County 
hundreds  of  houses  were  laid  in  ashes,  hundreds  of  persons 
scalped  and  slain,  and  many,  without  distinction  of  age  or  sex, 
taken  captive  and  subjected  to  frightful  tortures.  Says  one 
letter  of  the  time,  "  The  county  is  in  a  most  dismal  condition. 
It  can  't  hold  out  long.  Help  for  God's  sake.  Consternation, 
poverty,  and  confusion  everywhere." 

An  assault  was  made  on  a  settlement  of  twenty-five  persons 
at  the  mouth  of  Penn's  Creek,  on  the  Susquehanna,  from  which 
not  one  escaped.  The  only  history  of  the  bloody  deed  is  that 
given  by  neighbors  who  came  to  bury  the  dead.  "We  found 
but  thirteen,  who  were  men  and  elderly  women.  The  children, 
we  suppose  to  be  carried  away  prisoners.  The  house  where 
we  suppose  they  finished  the  murder  we  found  burnt  up ;  the 
man  of  it,  Jacob  King,  lying  just  by  it.  He  lay  on  his  back, 
barbarously  burnt,  and  two  tomahawks  sticking  in  his  fore 
head.  .  .  .  Terror  has  driven  away  almost  all  the  inhabit 
ants,  except  a  few  of  us  who  are  willing  to  stay  and  defend 
the  land.  But  as  we  are  not  at  all  able  to  defend  it  for  want 
of  guns  and  ammunition,  and  are  few  in  numbers,  without  assist 
ance,  we  must  flee  and  leave  the  country  to  the  mercy  of  the 
enemy." 

By  the  dark  waters  of  the  Lehigh,  in  what  is  now  Carbon 
county,  the  Moravian  Brethren  had  founded  a  settlement  of 
Christian  Indians,  called  Gnadenhutten.  A  half  mile  off  they 
laid  out  a  farm,  built  a  mill,  a  blacksmith's  shop,  a  meeting 
house,  and  a  dwelling.  This  latter  settlement  was  called  Maho- 
ning.  On  an  evening  in  November  the  white  brethren  were  at 
supper.  The  dark  night  and  the  roaring  of  the  wintry  blast 
through  the  valley,  stripping  the  trees  of  their  last  brown  leaves, 
made  the  little  band  of  devoted  people  all  the  more  thankful 
for  the  warm  fire  and  smoking  meal. 

Suddenly  the  dogs  set  up  a  loud  barking.  Some  one  went 
out  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  A  shot  was  heard.  Every 
one  rushed  to  open  the  door.  As  the  light  streamed  out  the 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  161 

yard  was  seen  to  be  alive  with  savages,  who  instantly  fired, 
killing  two  persons.  The  remainder  fled  to  the  garret,  heavily 
barricading  the  door.  After  vain  efforts  to  burst  open  the  door, 
the  Indians  fired  the  house.  Three  persons  escaped  by  jumping 
from  the  flaming  building.  The  rest,  seven  men,  three  women, 
and  one  child,  were  shot  in  the  attempt  or  burned  alive.  The 
settlement  was  plundered  and  destroyed,  while  the  neighbors  at 
Gnadenhutten  fled  through  the  night  to  Bethlehem,  thirty  miles 
away. 

This  dreadful  work  was  but  the  first  act  in  the  drama  of 
destruction  in  this  neighborhood.  Seven  settlements  were  in 
turn  destroyed.  The  whole  population  of  the  country  fled,  and 
a  region  of  settled  farms,  a  hundred  miles  wide,  was  left  with 
out  a  single  white  inhabitant.  The  interior  towns  were  choked 
and  crowded  with  these  wretched  refugees,  who  poured  into 
them,  destitute  of  food,  clothing,  or  means,  and  overwhelmed 
with  the  great  sorrow  which  had  visited  them. 

A  letter,  written  to  Benjamin  Franklin,  from  Easton,  Penn 
sylvania,  which  must  have  been  a  hundred  or  more  miles  from 
the  border  settlements,  says :  "  The  settlers  on  this  side  of  the 
mountain  are  actually  removed  and  we  are  now  the  frontier.  Our 
poor  people  of  this  town  have  quite  expended  their  little  sub 
stance  and  are  wearied  out  with  watching.  Seeing  themselves 
neglected  they  are  moving  away  as  fast  as  they  can.  Pray  do 
something  for  our  speedy  relief  or  the  whole  country  will  be 
entirely  ruined.  All  this  part  of  the  country  is  now  entirely 
lost,  and  the  enemy  are  penetrating  further  and  further,  and  if 
immediate  measures  are  not  taken,  they  will  soon  be  in  sight  of 
Philadelphia.  The  whole  country  is  flying  before  them." 

The  slaughter  was  by  no  means  confined  to  this  section  of 
the  state.  The  same  state  of  affairs  existed  everywhere,  even 
to  Greene  county  in  the  extreme  south-west.  Still  the  Quaker 
Legislature  refused  to  help.  Popular  indignation  knew  no 
bounds.  The  bodies  of  the  dead  and  mangled  were  sent  to 
Philadelphia,  hauled  around  the  streets  in  public  view,  and 


162  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

placarded  "THESE  ARE  THE  VICTIMS  OF  THE  QUAKER  POLICY  OF 
NON-RESISTANCE  !"  A  vast  mob  assembled  around  the  House  of 
Assembly,  piled  the  corpses  in  the  doorway,  and  demanded  that 
instant  action  be  taken. 

At  last,  with  great  reluctance,  the  Assembly  ordered  the 
erection  of  a  chain  of  stockade  forts  at  the  mountain  passes 
from  Easton  to  Bedford,  a  line  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles, 
at  a  cost  of  half  a  million  dollars.  These  forts  varied  in  size, 
but  were  much  alike  in  structure.  The  stockade  included  from 
a  half  to  two  acres,  and  consisted  of  logs  set  close  together  in 
the  ground  and  extending  twelve  feet  above.  Another  row 
inside  made  it  a  double  stockade.  At  the  corners  were  projec 
tions,  and  within  the  inclosure  were  log  barracks  and  a  maga 
zine.  Occasionally  the  fort  was  merely  a  block-house.  This 
was  a  solid  log  building,  generally  octagonal  in  form,  of  which 
the  upper  story  projected  about  three  feet  beyond  the  lower  to 
enable  the  defenders  to  fire  on  the  enemy  beneath,  and  prevent 
fires  from  being  built  against  the  walls,  which  were  appropri 
ately  pierced  with  port-holes. 

Although  this  line  of  forts  had  been  begun,  the  year  1756 
only  brought  new  horrors.  The  first  region  to  suffer  was  what 
is  now  Franklin  county.  The  savages  remained  there  a  month. 
Two  brothers,  named  Craig,  were  captured  on  their  way  to 
McDowell's  mill.  Sixty  men  started  in  pursuit.  A  sharp  fight 
resulted  in  favor  of  the  savages.  An  attempt  made  by  the 
latter  to  surprise  the  fort  resulted  in  another  desperate 
encounter  in  a  thicket  near  its  walls. 

The  attempt  to  surprise  the  fort  at  McDowell's  was  foiled. 
But  Indians  are  tireless.  Defeated  at  one  point,  they  will 
strike  at  another.  When  a  man  named  Barr  was  fired  at  and 
escaped,  they  went  and  burned  his  and  all  the  neighbors' 
houses.  When  defeated  at  McDowell's,  they  went  to  Mc- 
Cord's  fort.  Here  they  were  in  luck.  They  burned  the  fort 
in  process  of  construction.  They  killed  twenty-seven  of  its 
defenders.  William  Mitchell  had  collected  a  dozen  reapers  to 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  165 

cut  his  grain.  Being  cautious,  they  took  their  guns  into  the 
harvest  field.  But  a  man  can  not  carry  a  gun  and  wield  a 
scythe  at  the  same  time.  Nor  can  a  reaper  stand  all  the  time 
in  one  place.  So  the  men  laid  down  their  weapons.  The 
Indians  waited.  In  two  hours  the  reapers  had  mowed  so 
much  that  they  were  two  hundred  yards  from  their  guns.  It 
is  unnecessary  to  tell  what  followed.  The  Indians  somehow 
carried  away  twelve  more  guns  than  they  brought.  They 
also  left  twelve  corpses  in  the  field.  The  Great  Reaper  had 
gathered  the  little  reapers. 

These  massacres  were  not  all.  The  Conococheague  is  a 
creek.  On  its  banks  was  a  settlement.  It  was  composed  of 
brave  men,  hard-working  women,  and  laughing  children.  One 
day  there  was  a  war-whoop  in  the  forest.  There  were 
some  shots,  some  shrieks,  some  gasps.  Suddenly  the  Conoco 
cheague,  which  is  naturally  as  clear  as  crystal,  became  ruddy. 
This  unusual  color  proceeded  from  the  wounds  in  thirty-nine 
bodies  which  were  thrown  into  its  current.  Thirty-nine  had 
been  the  exact  number  of  living  souls  in  the  settlement. 

Without  salt,  life  is  unbearable.  John  Grey  and  Robert 
Innis  went  to  Carlisle  to  purchase  it.  The  providences  of  God 
are  inscrutable.  On  the  return,  while  descending  the  mount 
ains,  a  bear  ran  across  the  path,  frightening  Grey's  horse,  which 
threw  him  off  and  ran  away.  Innis  was  anxious  to  get  home. 
He  left  his  companion  behind.  It  took  the  latter  all  day  to 
catch  his  horse  and  readjust  his  pack.  This  made  him  lose  his 
temper.  It  also  saved  his  life.  When  he  reached  the  fort, 
where  he  lived,  its  logs  were  well  burned.  Every  occupant  of 
it,  including  Innis,  had  been  killed  or  taken  prisoner.  Failing 
to  find  the  remains  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  Grey  rightly  con 
cluded  they  had  been  taken  prisoner.  They  had  been  carried 
to  Canada. 

Poor  Grey,  after  every  effort  to  hear  of  their  whereabouts, 
died  of  a  broken  heart.  His  will  divided  his  little  farm  equally 

between  wife   and  daughter.     If  the  daughter   did  not  return, 
9 


166  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

her  share  was  to  go  to  a  sister.  The  widow  returned  in  a  year, 
proved  the  will,  and  received  her  half.  Her  daughter  was  still 
captive.  In  1764,  all  Indian  captives,  by  terms  of  the  peace, 
were  brought  to  Philadelphia.  Mrs.  Grey  failed  to  find  her 
daughter,  but,  in  order  to  get  the  daughter's  share  of  the  prop 
erty,  claimed  another  child  as  her  own.  The  stratagem  suc 
ceeded  for  the  time.  But  as  years  rolled  on,  the  spurious  heir 
developed  coarse  features,  loose  morals,  and  vile  manners.  The 
heirs  of  the  sister  brought  suit,  and,  in  1836,  it  was  decided  that 
the  supposed  heir  was  not  Grey's  child. 

At  the  time  of  Mrs.  Grey's  capture,  other  bands  of  Indians 
were  doing  similar  things  in  other  places.  In  what  is  Lehigh 
county,  there  were  a  few  settlers  who  still  dared  to  remain. 
It  was  folly.  As  the  family  of  Frederick  Reichelsderfer  sat 
down  to  breakfast,  they  were  fired  upon  from  a  window  and 
every  one  killed.  At  the  house  of  Jacob  Gerhart  all  were 
killed  outright,  except  two  children.  These  little  fellows  had 
crawled  under  the  bed.  This,  however,  reserved  them  for  a 
worse  fate.  They  were  burned  alive. 

These  instances  are  selected  at  random  from  a  hundred 
others.  But  how  about  other  places  ?  Mifflin  county  is  one 
hundred  miles  west  of  Lehigh.  Fort  Granville  had  a  strong 
garrison.  The  settlers,  crowded  into  the  stockade  for  safety, 
asked  to  have  a  part  of  the  troops  act  as  guards  while  they 
reaped  their  harvest.  Unless  grain  could  be  had,  starvation 
would  ensue.  Only  twenty-four  men  remained  in  the  fort. 
That  night  the  Indians  attacked  it,  and  set  it  on  fire. 

Besides  the  garrison,  three  women  and  six  children  were 
captured.  The  prisoners  were  hurried  away.  In  the  morning 
they  were  treated  to  a  rare  sight.  A  soldier,  named  Turner, 
was  tied  to  a  stake.  Some  gun-barrels  were  heated  red-hot  and 
run  through  his  body.  The  sickening  odor  of  burnt  flesh  was 
delicious  to  the  Indians.  After  three  hours  Turner  no  longer 
cried.  This  spoiled  the  fun.  An  Indian  boy  of  eight  years 
was  held  up  in  the  arms  of  its  proud  father,  with  a  tomahawk 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  167 

in  the  boy's  hand.  The  cherub  took  careful  aim.  He  split 
Turner's  head  open  at  one  stroke.  This  feat  so  delighted  the 
fond  parent  that  he  gave  the  infant  prodigy  a  bow  and  arrows. 

About  this  time  the  Quakers  in  Philadelphia  formed  a 
"Peace  Association."  The  association  at  once  bought  a  large 
number  of  splendid  presents  and  sent  them  to  the  Indians,  to 
"  propitiate  "  them.  It  was  a  bold  step,  so  bold  that  one  laughs 
right  out  at  it.  On  August  24,  1756,  another  desperate  plea 
for  help  was  sent  to  Philadelphia,  "  begging,  for  God's  sake,"  as 
it  reads,  "  that  you  may  take  pity  on  our  poor  families." 

There  were  reasons  for  this  outcry.  A  band  of  Indians  had 
spread  new  desolation  in  the  neighborhood  in  which  lived  the 
petitioners.  Among  this  band  an  Indian  named  Cotties  wanted 
to  be  made  chief  or  captain.  The  warriors  laughed  at  him. 
"  Where  are  the  scalps  of  the  enemies  you  claim  to  have  killed  ? 
You  are  but  a  squaw !"  That  night  Cotties  and  an  Indian  boy 
disappeared  from  the  camp.  The  reproach  stung  him.  Rivalry 
in  slaughter,  competition  in  destruction — such  a  contest  is  ter 
rible.  Cotties  determined  to  compete  with  the  entire  band  of 
sixty  Indians  in  the  red  tournament. 

At  Sherman's  Creek  lived  William  Sheridan  with  his  family. 
On  a  fashionable  city  street,  as  many  as  two  children  in  one 
family  are  unusual.  On  the  frontier  it  is  different./  Population 
is  needed.  William  Sheridan  had  ( thirteen  children.  Cotties 
hid  himself  in  the  bushes.  When  Sheridan  came  out  after 
fire-wood,  Cotties  buried  a  knife  in  his  heart.  Presently  the 
oldest  son  came  out  to  look  for  his  father,  and  was  similarly 
treated.  In  half  an  hour  Cotties  had  sixteen  scalps  at  his  belt. 

Half  a  m-ie  down  the  creek,  buried  in  a  deep  wood,  stood  a 
solitary  cabin,  occupied  by  two  old  men  and  one  woman.  Thither 
proceeded  the  terrible  Cotties.  He  entered  the  dark  wood.  In 
an  hour  he  emerged.  It  could  be  seen  that  he  carried  nineteen 
scalps  instead  of  sixteen.  The  three  new  ones  came  from  the 
three  old  people.  When  Cotties  returned  to  his  camp,  the  braves 
threw  down  their  weapons.  Nineteen  scalps  in  one  day!  ,The 


168  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

whole  band  had  only  taken  eighteen  in  the  same  time.  They 
begged  the  redoutable  Cotties  to  become  their  chief.  Such  a 
hero  was  little  short  of  a  demi-god. 

Sometimes  luck  was  against  the  Indians.  James  Bell,  while 
out  hunting  for  deer,  discovered  three  savages.  One  of  them 
he  fired  at  and  wounded.  From  the  shots  of  the  others  he 
protected  himself  by  a  large  tree.  But  a  tree  is  a  protec 
tion  only  on  one  side.  There  were  two  Indians.  They  moved 
in  opposite  directions  to  checkmate  Bell.  This  would  have 
succeeded  if  Bell  had  not  shot  and  killed  one  of  them.  The 
third  turned  to  fly,  taking  the  dead  savage  on  his  back.  Bell 
fired.  His  ball  passed  through  the  corpse  and  lodged  in  the 
living  body. 

One  evening  a  settler  came  in  from  the  forest  and  found  his 
cabin  burnt,  and  his  wife  and  children  murdered.  As  he  looked 
on  the  ruin,  a  tempest  of  fire  swept  through  his  being.  In  a 
moment  the  waving  foliage  of  hopes  and  loves,  of  sympathies 
and  compassions  were  burnt  out,  leaving  his  nature  like  the 
charred  trunks  of  trees  through  which  has  passed  the  roaring 
forest  fire.  A  demon  entered  into  and  possessed  him.  As  he 
walked  to  and  fro  before  the  heap  of  ashes  which  had  borne 
the  precious  name  of  home,  his  clenched  fist  was  shaken  at  the 
surrounding  forest.  His  teeth  were  gnashed  together.  A  storm 
came  up.  The  rains  of  heaven  beat  down  unnoticed  upon  his 
unprotected  head.  The  crack  of  the  thunderbolt,  the  flash  of 
the  forked  lightning  alike  failed  to  attract  his  attention. 

It  was  midnight.  By  the  dull  glow  of  the  cabin  embers  the 
man  could  be  seen,  still  walking  backward  and  forward.  The 
storm  ceased,  but  not  the  walker.  At  last  morning  dawned.  A 
bird  caroled  its  early  song  from  the  leafy  branches  of  a  mighty 
tree.  The  man  .paused.  He  looked  around  with  a  bewildered 
air.  At  a  distance,  in  a  puddle  of  water,  lay  his  hat,  where 
it  had  fallen  the  night  before.  He  picked  it  up.  As  he 
did  so  his  eye  fell  upon  the  corpse  of  his  child.  He  started. 
He  had  been  living  over  his  entire  life.  He  recollected  him- 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  169 

self.  With  heavy  heart  he  dug  a  grave  and  reverently  laid 
away  to  rest  the  bodies  of  the  dead.  One  mighty  burst  of  tears, 
one  last  look  at  the  little  homestead,  and  he  was  gone.  Hence 
forth  all  aims  and  ambitions,  all  hopes  and  affections  were  fused 
into  one  overmastering  passion — REVENGE.  Caves  and  moun 
tains  became  his  dwelling-place. 

Before  this  calamity  he  had  not  been  known  to  a  half  dozen 
men.  They  soon  forgot  him.  The  pioneers  found  corpses  of 
Indians  in  the  forest,  half  devoured  by  birds  of  prey.  When 
they  saw  it  they  said,  "  He  has  been  here."  They  heard  the 
crack  of  a  rifle  at  midnight  in  the  mountains,  and  said,  "It  is 
he."  One  night  a  settler  hearing  a  shot  near  by,  threw  open 
his  door.  A  dead  savage  lay  before  it,  and  a  voice  called  out 
from  the  woods,  "I  have  saved  your  lives."  That  was  all.  He 
was  the  protector  of  the  settlers.  Though  they  knew  not  his 
name,  he  was  well  known.  He  was  spoken  of  as  "  Captain 
Jack,"  "The  Black  Rifle,"  "Half  Indian,"  and  "The  Wild 
Hunter  of  the  Juniata."  At  one  time  he  had  about  him  a  band 
of  men  as  formidable  as  himself.  At  last  he  disappeared.  The 
grateful  settlers  perpetuated  his  memory.  They  said  that  every 
night  at  midnight,  he  revisited,  in  spirit  form,  a  favorite  spring, 
drank  from  its  clear  depths,  and  then  vanished.  Who  is  there 
that  can  say  it  was  not  so  ? 

Kittanning  was  an  Indian  village  on  the  Alleghany  River, 
the  stronghold  of  Jacobs  and  Shingas,  the  most  ferocious  and 
bloodthirsty  of  the  Indian  chiefs.  From  this  point  were  sent 
out  many  of  those  terrible  war  parties,  which  swept  the  defense 
less  frontier  with  desolation  and  destruction.  On  the  30th  of 
August,  1756,  Colonel  John  Armstrong,  with  a  band  of  three 
hundred  brave  frontiersmen,  set  out  to  attack  this  nest  of  thun 
derbolts.  A  journey  of  seven  days  brought  them  within  six 
miles  of  the  village.  At  this  point,  a  half  dozen  Indians  were 
found  sitting  around  a  fire  in  the  woods.  As  Armstrong's  plan 
was  to  surprise  the  town,  these  fellows  were  left  in  peace  for 
the  time  being,  a  dozen  men  under  Lieutenant  Hogg,  remaining 


170  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

to  watch  them,  while  the  main  body  made  a  detour  and  pushed 
on  to  the  village. 

The  attack  was  made  at  sunrise,  through  a  cornfield  which 
concealed  their  approach.  A  desperate  fight  ensued.  The 
houses  were  fired.  Again  and  again  the  Indians  were  called  on 
to  surrender.  But  the  offer  was  invariably  refused.  They 
defended  their  houses  with  desperate  courage.  Jacobs,  the  chief, 
was  shot  in  getting  out  of  a  window.  As  the  flames  walled  in 
many  for  whom  escape  was  impossible,  they  set  up  the  death 
song,  which  rose  in  wild  and  plaintive  notes  above  the  din  of 
the  conflict.  The  store  of  powder  in  each  house,  which  the 
Indians  had  boasted  was  sufficient  for  ten  years'  war,  exploded 
with  terrific  force,  flinging  many  an  unfortunate  high  in  air. 
Eleven  captives  were  rescued;  the  village  and  great  stores  of 
provisions  were  destroyed,  and  forty  warriors  killed,  the  major 
ity  escaping  by  flight. 

Only  the  night  before,  an  advance  party  of  twenty-four 
Indians  had  gone  out  on  an  expedition  against  the  frontier. 
Lieutenant  Hogg  attacked  these,  but  was  defeated,  after  losing 
several  of  his  best  men.  He,  himself,  though  badly  wounded, 
was  overlooked  by  the  enemy,  and  lay  in  the  forest,  helpless  and 
hopeless,  until  he  was  fortunately  discovered  and  rescued  by  the 
victorious  army  on  its  return  march.  For  this  valiant  service, 
the  city  of  Philadelphia  presented  Armstrong  with  a  memorial 
medal. 

Yet  the  Indian  ravages  were  unchecked.  The  line  of  forts, 
the  heroic  efforts  of  the  settlers,  were  nothing.  When  the  third 
year  after  Braddock's  defeat  rolled  round,  the  boundless  brutal 
ities  of  the  Indians,  instead  of  being  checked,  were  more  con 
stant,  more  wide-spread,  and  more  terrible  than  ever  before. 

What  at  the  beginning  of  the  war  had  been  the  interior,  in 
which  danger  was  never  apprehended,  became  in  turn  the  front 
ier.  The  country  was  absolutely  depopulated.  The  territory 
now  forming  many  counties,  which,  in  1755,  was  tolerably  set 
tled,  became  a  howling  wilderness,  and  was  abandoned  to  sav- 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES.  171 

ages  and  wild  beasts.  The  bold  invaders  pushed  farther  and 
farther  to  the  east.  One  day  Philadelphia  learned  that  a  band 
of  warriors  had  sacked  and  pillaged  the  country  and  massacred 
the  inhabitants,  only  thirty  miles  away. 

The  instances  we  have  given  are  only  a  few  drops  from  a 
mighty  flood,  only  a  few  dead  coals  raked  from  the  embers  of 
a  tremendous  conflagration.  There  is  enough  of  insecurity,  of 
transitoriness  in  life  at  best.  The  universal  tragedy  goes  on 
around  us  perpetually.  Each  of  us  comes  to  take  his  turn  in 
the  last  sad  act  of  the  dreadful  drama. 

Yet  to  all  this,  for  the  pioneers  of  Pennsylvania  and  of  all 
new  countries,  were  added  the  horrors  of  border  warfare.  As 
the  family  huddled  around  the  fire-place  at  evening,  they  felt 
that  each  rattle  of  the  shutter  in  the  wintry  blast  might  be  the 
work  of  a  savage  hand.  The  rustling  leaves  of  the  forest  might 
only  conceal  the  stealthy  approach  of  moccasined  feet.  Each 
trip  to  the  well  after  nightfall  for  a  bucket  of  water  was  like  a 
sally  from  a  beleaguered  fort.  Every  shadow  might  hide  a 
dusky  form.  Behind  every  tree  might  lurk  a  murderous  enemy. 
The  bark  of  the  dogs,  or  the  querulous  cacklings  of  the  sleepy 
hens,  might  be  the  warning  of  the  approach  of  an  Indian  war 
party.  Life  had  no  security.  The  regularity  of  toil,  the  pur 
suit  of  ambitions,  the  routine  of  the  family,  the  quiet  succession 
of  tasks  in  the  respective  seasons — all  this  was  broken  into  and 
interrupted. 

But  why  not  fly  ?  Why  wait  until  the  crimsoned  tomahawk 
was  raised  in  air,  and  the  little  cabin  crackled  in  the  flames  ?  It 
is  easy  to  answer.  To  fly  was  to  lose  home  and  all  means  of 
subsistence,  and  become  homeless  refugees,  starving  wanderers, 
pensioners  on  a  cold  and  reluctant  charity.  Added  to  the  real 
dangers  of  the  situation  were  the  fantastic  horrors  of  the  imag 
ination.  In  such  a  community  wild  rumors  filled  every  breeze. 
Hardly  a  day  passed  that  some  messenger  of  alarm  did  not  dash 
past  the  cabin  on  flying  steed.  A  hundred  times  a  year  the 
settlers  took  refuge  in  the  forts  from  imaginary  enemies. 


172  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

In  such  sorrows  did  the  rivalries  of  France  and  England 
involve  the  innocent  settlers  of  distant  Pennsylvania,  Maryland, 
and  Virginia.  In  this  way  did  the  arts  of  the  Frenchman  turn 
the  rage  of  the  Indian  against  the  English  in  favor  of  himself. 
Yet  it  was  useless.  England,  defeated  and  humiliated  on  every 
battle-field,  whether  in  Europe  or  America,  called  to  her  help  a 
single  man,  an  invalid,  without  fortune,  family,  or  party.  That 
man  was  William  Pitt.  With  the  voice  of  an  archangel  he 
roused  the  States  of  Protestantism  to  wage  a  war  for  mastery 
against  the  despotic  monarchy  and  the  institutions  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  to  secure  to  humanity  its  futurity  of  freedom.  The 
mighty  alliance  which  he  created  humbled  the  haughty  mon 
arch  of  the  French  and  changed  the  destinies  of  mankind. 

In  1758  three  great  military  expeditions  were  fitted  out  by 
the  English  in  America.  One  of  these  achieved  the  conquest 
of  Louisburg;  another  that  of  Fort  Frontenac.  A  third  was  dis- 
.patched,  under  General  Forbes,  to  attack  Fort  du  Quesne,  and 
if  possible,  drive  the  savages  from  the  country.  It  was  success 
ful.  The  fort  at  the  junction  of  the  Alleghany  and  Mononga- 
hela  rivers  once  more  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  English. 
With  unanimous  voice  the  new  fort,  rising  on  the  ruins  of  the 
old  was  named  FORT  PITT,  in  honor  of  the  great  statesman, 
whose  genius  was  overwhelming  the  enemies  of  England. 
"  Pittsburg,"  says  Bancroft,  "  is  the  most  enduring  trophy  of 
the  glory  of  William  Pitt.  Long  as  the  Monongahela  and  the 
Alleghany  shall  flow  to  form  the  Ohio,  long  as  the  English 
tongue  shall  be  the  language  of  freedom  in  the  boundless  val 
ley  which  their  waters  traverse,  his  name  shall  stand  inscribed 
on  the  Gateway  of  the  West." 

The  year  1759  witnessed  another  series  of  victories  planned 
by  Pitt.  Among  these  was  the  memorable  and  dramatic  fall  of 
Quebec.  These  successes  continued  without  interruption,  until, 
on  September  8,  1760,  the  French  surrendered  all  of  Canada  to 
the  English.  Everywhere  the  Lilies  of  France  were  supplanted 
by  the  British  Lion. 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LILIES. 


173 


So  far  as  France  was  concerned,  the  peace,  which  had  come 
to  the  bruised  and  bleeding  pioneers  of  Pennsylvania,  Virginia, 
and  Maryland,  on  the  fall  of  Fort  du  Quesne,  and  which  was 
now  re-enforced  by  the  surrender  of  Canada  and  all  French  forts, 
was  permanent.  Such  the  settlers  believed  it  to  be.  Unfor 
tunately,  France,  in  winning  the  Indians  to  her  cause,  and 
deluging  in  blood  the  country  of  their  enemies,  had  evoked  a 
spirit  which  would  not  down  at  her  bidding. 


1  .-3 


174 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


OHAPTEE  V. 

ROGERS'S    RANGERS. 

iMONG  the  colonial  recruits  raised  for  the  Brit 
ish  army  in  the  year  1755,  after  the  awful 
defeat  of  Braddock,  was  Captain  Robert  Rogers, 
who  was  at  the  head  of  a  small  company  of 
rough  fellows  from  New  Hampshire.  He  was 
over  six  feet  high,  physically  the  most  pow 
erful  man  in  the  army.  He  had  been  virtually 
brought  up  in  a  hunter's  camp.  From  boy 
hood  he  had,  with  gun,  blanket,  and  kettle,  some  ammunition, 
and  a  little  sack  of  parched  corn,  ranged  the  untrodden  forests 
of  New  England  and  Canada  in  search  of  furs  and  game.  He 
had  slept  with  the  savages  in  their  wigwams,  wrestled  and 
gambled  with  their  warriors,  ogled  their  squaws,  shot  the 
rapids  with  them  in  their  frail  bark  canoes,  until  the  Indian 
character  and  methods  hid  no  secret  from  him.  When  the 
recruits  assembled  at  Albany,  New  York,  General  Johnson, 
knowing  Rogers  by  reputation,  employed  him  from  time  to 
time  on  important  scouts.  His  head-quarters  were  at  Fort 
William  Henry,  a  new  fort  erected  by  the  British  at  the 
southern  extremity  of  Lake  George. 

Taking  four  or  five  trusty  men  with  him,  he  would  proceed 
up  the  lake  to  a  convenient  point,  hide  the  canoe  in  the  rushes, 
and  push  his  way  through  the  forest,  penetrating  the  sentry 
lines  to  the  very  camp  of  the  enemy.  At  Crown  Point,  one 
of  the  French  forts,  his  men,  under  cover  of  night,  concealed 


ROGERS' S  RANGERS.  175 

themselves  in  the  willows  only  three  hundred  yards  from  the 
fort.  When  morning  dawned,  Rogers,  holding  some  bushes  in 
his  hand,  crawled  nearer.  While  making  his  reconnoissance, 
numbers  of  soldiers  and  Indians  came  out  of  the  fort  and 
engaged  in  drilling  or  shooting  at  marks  so  near  that  Rogers 
could  not  rejoin  his  men,  nor  could  the  latter  retreat  without 
discovery.  .  As  he  lay  behind  a  small  log,  a  Frenchman  left 
his  companions  and  walked  directly  toward  the  spot  of  con 
cealment.  Rogers  sprang  at  him  with  his  gun,  offering  quarter. 
The  stranger,  instead  of  submitting,  whipped  out  a  dirk,  and 
made  a  quick  lunge  at  Rogers,  but  the  latter  shot  him  dead. 
The  report  instantly  gave  the  alarm.  The  Frenchmen  ran  to 
the  spot  where  lay  the  bleeding  corpse,  but  no  sign  was  there 
of  the  hand  which  had  done  the  deed.  If  Rogers  and  his 
men  had  suddenly  evaporated,  the  mystery,  understood  only  by 
themselves,  could  not  have  been  more  perfect. 

Soon  after  their  safe  return,  with  information  of  the  enemy 
gained  on  the  above  scout,  Rogers  took  thirty  men  and 
two  small  cannon  in  four  bateaux,  and,  pushing  down  the  lake, 
discovered  the  enemy  in  an  open  camp  in  the  forest.  Runners 
bore  the  information  to  Fort  Henry  asking  for  re-enforcements. 
The  delay  caused  them  to  be  discovered.  The  British  moved 
forward  to  surprise  the  French,  when  they  perceived  a  fleet  of 
hostile  canoes  coming  down  the  lake.  No  doubt  a  similar  force 
was  advancing  by  land  to  catch  the  British  between  two  fires. 
Rogers  at  once  threw  fifteen  men  into  canoes  to  decoy  the 
French  within  range  of  the  two  cannon.  He  steered  as  if  mean 
ing  to  escape.  The  French  at  once  headed  diagonally  toward  the 
shore,  to  cut  him  off.  The  stratagem  succeeded.  Two  cannon 
shots  sunk  as  many  canoes,  and  the  remainder  fled,  pursued 
unsuccessfully  by  the  entire  force  of  British,  who  had  swiftly 
embarked  for  the  chase. 

In  another  scout,  toward  Fort  Ticonderoga,  Rogers  and  two 
companions  were  discovered  on  the  lake  by  the  enemy.  Deter 
mined  not  to  retreat,  the  scouts  quickly  assumed  the  guise  of 


176 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


VICINITY  OF  LAKE 
GJEOKGE. 


fishermen.  All  day  they  coolly  floated  within  gunshot  of  the 
French,  dropping  hook  and  line  into  the  placid  lake,  and  at  even 
ing  actually  sold  their  catch  to  the  French.  When  night  came 
on  the  adventurers  pushed  on  toward  their  destination.  Their 
reconnoissance  at  Ticonderoga,  rendered  diffi 
cult  by  the  intense  cold,  was  about  completed, 
except  as  to  capturing  a  prisoner,  when  a  snow 
began  to  fall.  No  art  could  conceal  their 
trail,  if  they  lingered  till  the  snowfall  ceased. 
So  the  return  trip  was  hastily  begun.  By 
Christmas  Lake  George  was  entirely  frozen 
from  shore  to  shore.  But  Rogers  and  his 
tireless  woodsmen,  instead  of  remaining  idly 
in  the  warm  quarters  at  the  fort,  equipped 
themselves  with  skates,  and  braved  the  win 
try  tempest  in  many  an  expedition.  Their 
success  was  unvarying.  Taking  a  force  of  from  ten  to  fifty 
men,  on  skates,  Rogers  would  skim  along  the  icy  floor  of  the 
lake  surface  to  a  point  opposite  Ticonderoga  or  Crown  Point, 
order  his  men  to  change  their  skates  for  snow-shoes,  and  move 
swiftly  to  some  ambush  along  the  roads  leading  to  the  fort.  Here 
they  would  lie  in  the  snow,  exposed  to  the  bitter  cold,  sometimes 
for  two  or  three  days,  with  no  shelter  but  a  few  pine  boughs  has 
tily  thrown  together,  and  without  a  spark  of  fire,  the  smoke 
of  which  would  instantly  reveal  them  to  the  neigboring  fort. 
Here  they  intercepted  the  sledges  carrying  fresh  beef,  venison, 
and  corn  to  the  fort,  captured  the  drivers,  and  appropriated 
the  provision.  When  they  had  caught  several  prisoners,  they 
would  glide  into  the  French  settlement,  cut  the  throats  of  the 
cattle,  set  fire  to  the  barns  full  of  grain  and  to  the  houses 
of  the  villagers,  and  just  as  the  red  flames  shot  upward  into 
the  winter  night,  throwing  their  angry  glare  far  across  the 
whitened  landscape,  the  mysterious  and  deadly  Rangers  would 
disappear  in  the  forest  as  suddenly  as  they  came. 

So  valuable   were   the   services  of  Rogers   and    his   hardy 


ROGERS'S  RANGERS.  177 

woodsmen,  that,  in  the  spring  of  1756,  he  received  a  special 
commission  from  the  commander-in-chief  to  raise  an  independ 
ent  corps  of  experienced  foresters,  men  whom  he  was  to  choose 
himself,  of  the  most  approved  courage  and  fidelity,  and  of  the 
greatest  physical  inurement  to  exposure.  The  corps  was  to 
be  known  as  ROGERS'S  RANGERS,  the  men  receiving  the  pay  of 
regular  soldiers,  but  carrying  on  warfare  as  scouts  in  their 
own  brave  fashion.  This  famous  corps  became  the  right  arm 
of  the  British  troops.  Their  official  instructions  were  "  to  use 
their  best  endeavors  to  distress  the  French  and  their  allies,  by 
sacking,  burning,  and  destroying  their  houses,  barns,  barracks, 
canoes,  bateaux,  etc.,  and  by  killing  their  cattle  of  every  kind ; 
and  at  all  times  to  endeavor  to  destroy  their  convoys  of  provis 
ion,  by  land  and  water,  in  every  part  of  the  country." 

OH  the  way  to  Fort  Henry,  with  his  new  Rangers,  Rogers 
made  an  elaborate  scout  around  Crown  Point.  After  killing 
large  numbers  of  cattle,  the  tongues  of  which  were  carefully 
removed  for  the  Rangers'  use,  they  were  discovered  and  closely 
pursued  by  an  overwhelming  force  of  French  and  Indians.  In 
this  emergency,  Rogers  executed  a  masterly  maneuver.  Appoint 
ing  a  rendezvous  at  a  distant  point  on  the  lake  shore,  the  Ran 
gers  suddenly  separated,  every  man  taking  his  own  course. 
Where  there  had  been  five  minutes  before  a  stout  body  of  men, 
the  enemy  found  no  one.  The  Rangers  had  dispersed  and  left 
only  thin  air.  From  this  point  on,  their  history  is  a  succession 
of  thrilling  and  successful  exploits,  of  which  we  may  only  take 
an  occasional  glimpse.  Not  a  week  passed  without  some  daring 
scout  or  victory.  The  Rangers  only  had  to  go  out  in  order  to 
catch  a  net  full  of  birds,  as  they  called  their  prisoners.  These 
Rogers  would  examine  separately  and  with  great  care,  to  see 
if  their  stories  agreed,  concerning  the  strength,  movements, 
plans,  supplies,  and  situation  of  the  enemy.  Keen  and  saga 
cious  in  these  examinations,  able  at  a  glance  to  separate  the  truth 
from  falsehood,  and  wonderfully  skillful  in  reading  character, 
Rogers  kept  the  British  head-quarters  more  accurately  posted 


178  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

with  regard  to  the  enemy  than  were  the  French  and  Indian 
commanders  themselves.  From  time  to  time,  during  the  war, 
the  "Rangers"  were  gradually  increased  from  their  original 
strength  of  sixty-two  men,  to  more  than  a  thousand. 

One  night  in  July,  1756,  while  on  a  lengthy  scout,  the 
Rangers  prepared  to  attack  a  French  schooner,  lying  one  mile 
from  the  lake  shore.  Just  then  two  lighters,  laden  with  pro 
vision  and  strongly  guarded,  came  in  sight,  and  made  for  the 
shore  as  if  to  encamp,  it  being  about  ten  o'clock  at  night.  As 
they  drew  close  to  land,  the  Rangers  fired  from  the  forest, 
and  Rogers  offered  quarter  to  the  enemy.  The  latter,  however, 
put  about,  and  made  every  effort  to  reach  the  opposite  shore. 
Before  they  reached  it  the  terrible  Rangers  had  made  prisoners 
of  the  entire  party,  and  sunk  and  destroyed  both  cargoes,  con 
sisting  of  wheat,  flour,  wine  and  brandy.  At  this  time  the 
French  were  offering  the  Indians  sixty  francs  for  every  English 
scalp,  and  prisoners  were  sold  in  Canada  for  sixty  crowds. 
Rogers's  first-lieutenant  was  John  Stark,  afterwards  major-gea- 
eral  of  the  American  army  in  the  Revolution. 

The  fall  and  winter  of  1756  were  busily  employed  in  harass 
ing  the  enemy  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lake  George.  On  the 
21st  of  January,  1757,  Rogers  had  a  company  of  eighty  men 
with  him,  equipped  with  skates  and  snow-shoes.  They  were 
encamped  three  miles  from  the  lake,  on  elevated  ground,  near 
Ticonderoga,  from  which  they  commanded  a  view  of  the  snowy 
landscape  for  many  miles.  Far  off  on  the  glittering  ice,  they 
saw  a  small  object  moving  across  the  lake.  The  keen  eye  of 
Rogers  pronounced  it  to  be  a  sled  laden  with  provision.  Lieu 
tenant  Stark  set  out  with  ten  men  to  head  it  off,  while  Rogers 
and  the  others  moved  swiftly  to  intercept  the  retreat. 

Soon  after  Stark  had  departed,  Rogers  detected  ten  other 
sleds  following  the  first.  It  was  too  late  to  warn  Stark  of 
the  fact.  The  latter  struck  out  for  the  first  sled,  and  the 
other  sleds,  still  at  a  distance,  discovering  him,  instantly  put 
about.  Pursuit  was  the  only  thing  possible.  The  sleds  were 


ROGERS'S  RANGERS.  179 

made  of  a  long  board,  turned  up  in  front,  and  with  high  racks 
at  the  side  and  end  to  hold  the  load.  They  were  as  light  as 
egg-shells,  and  drawn  each  by  two  horses,  rough  shod,  and,  urged 
to  the  top  of  their  speed  by  relentless  drivers,  sped  over  the  ice 
with  the  velocity  of  the  wind.  Quick  as  thought,  Rogers's  men 
clapped  on  their  skates  and  began  the  chase.  The  nearest  sleds 
were  a  half  a  mile  away.  It  was  a  race  between  swift  and 
powerful  horses  and  the  swiftest  skaters  in  the  world.  On  flew 
the  foaming  horses,  their  manes  flying  and  eyeballs  strained, 
scattering  showers  of  ice  as  their  ponderous  feet  dug  into  the 
glittering  surface.  Wildly  the  hoarse  drivers  shouted  and  plied 
their  rawhide  lashes  upon  the  reeking  steeds.  Behind  them 
came  the  shaggy  and  powerful  Rangers,  seeming  as  they  whirled 
over  the  ringing  ice  like  superhuman  creatures.  The  pursuers 
had  the  shorter  path.  The  sleds  must  cross  it.  Whoever 
reached  the  intersection  first  would  win  the  deadly  race. 

As  the  steel  of  the  pursuers'  skate's  flashed  in  the  sunlight, 
it  could  be  seen  that  they  were  gaining.  Stark  and  his  men 
had  overtaken  the  rear  sled,  but  the  other  Rangers  paused  not 
in  their  impetuous  career.  Still,  it  was  evident,  that  some  of 
the  sleds  would  escape.  One  after  another  of  those  farthest  in 
advance  crossed  the  point  where  met  the  paths  of  pursuer  and 
pursued.  All  but  two  of  the  sleds  had  passed  the  line  of  safety. 
Suddenly  Rogers,  who  was  six  yards  ahead  of  the  nearest  Ran 
ger,  was  seen  to  unsling  his  gun.  Without  slackening  his  ter 
rific  speed,  or  removing  his  eye  from  the  enemy  for  a  moment, 
just  as  the  second  sled  from  the  rear  crossed  his  path  he  threw 
his  gun  to  his  shoulder  and  fired. 

The  nearest  horse  was  seen  to  lunge  forward  and  fall,  thrown 
by  his  momentum,  a  hundred  feet  along  the  ice.  His  mate, 
frightened  and  entangled,  lost  her  footing.  In  a- moment  the 
Rangers  were  upon  their  foes.  The  last  sled  fell  an  easy  victim. 
The  race  between  man  and  brute  had  been  won  by  man. 

It  was  evident  that  the  sleds  which  had  escaped  would  carry 
the  news  to  the  fort,  and  rouse  instant  pursuit.  Rogers  ordered 


180  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

his  men  to  take  the  seven  prisoners,  and  return  at  once  to  the 
camp  fires  they  had  left  three  hours  before.  So  sudden  had  been 
their  departure,  that  the  men  had  not  removed  the  priming  in 
their  guns  since  the  previous  day.  Every  thing  was  made  ready 
for  a  fight,  and  a  retreat  commenced.  They  had  just  crossed  a 
little  valley,  and  were  nearing  the  opposite  ridge,  when  the 
woods  blazed  with  a  deadly  volley  of  bullets.  Several  Rangers 
fell  dead,  Rogers  himself  being  wounded  in  the  head.  The 
Rangers  retreated  to  the  opposite  ridge,  where,  sheltered  by 
trees,  they  were  enabled  to  fight  to  advantage.  From  two 
o'clock  till  sunset  the  battle  raged.  Three  times  the  French 
and  Indians  tried  to  flank  the  British,  but  as  many  times  were 
driven  back.  Rogers  received  a  wound  in  his  wrist,  and  many 
of  his  brave  men,  scorning  the  idea  of  a  surrender,  lay  helpless 
and  bleeding  in  the  snow.  At  dark  the  enemy  withdrew. 

Worn  out  with  the  exciting  events  of  the  day,  many  of  their 
number  badly  wounded,  the  exhausted  Rangers  still  felt  it 
necessary  to  retreat  farther  from  the  enemy's  neighboring  fort. 
For  six  weary  miles  they  groped  their  way  through  the  forest. 
Once  they  caught  sight  of  a  camp  fire,  and  made  a  wide  detour 
for  fear  of  Indians.  At  last,  a  comfortless  camp  was  pitched 
for  the  night.  In  the  morning  the  wounded  were  unable  to 
proceed  farther  without  assistance.  Lieutenant  Stark  offered 
to  go  to  the  fort  on  snow-shoes,  a  distance  of  forty  long  miles, 
and  procure  sleighs  for  them. 

In  spite  of  the  many  difficulties  and  hardships  of  the  way, 
he  traversed  the  entire  forty  miles  by  sundown,  and  dispatched 
a  relief  party  with  sleighs  for  the  wounded,  so  that  they  reached 
the  suffering  men  before  morning.  Just  as  the  sleighs  arrived 
the  Rangers  perceived  a  black  object,  at  a  great  distance,  crawl 
ing  over  the  ice.  Supposing  it  to  be  one  of  their  stragglers,  a 
sleigh  was  sent  to  investigate.  It  proved  to  be  Joshua  Martin, 
who  had  been  shot  through  the  hips.  He  had  been  left  for 
dead  on  the  field  of  battle,  but  managed  to  crawl  back  into  the 
woods  and  build  the  fire  which  his  companions  saw  and  avoided. 


ROGERS'S  RANGERS.  181 

Feebly  and  with  great  pain,  crawling .  through  the  snow,  he  fol 
lowed  their  track  to  the  lake,  and  then  moved  along  the  ice. 
When  relief  reached  him  he  fainted  away,  but  afterward  recov 
ered  and  fought  all  through  the  war. 

The  French  made  several  attempts  to  capture  Fort  Henry, 
but  as  long  as  the  Rangers  were  there  these  efforts  failed. 
Rogers,  suffering  greatly  from  his  wounds,  had  gone  to  Albany 
for  surgical  aid,  soon  after  the  events  last  recorded.  While 
there  he  was  attacked  with  the  small-pox,  that  scourge  alike 
of  the  wilderness  and  of  the  city.  So  it  happened  that  on  the 
16th  of  March,  1757,  Stark  was  acting  commander  of  the 
Rangers  at  Fort  Henry.  On  that  evening,  as  he  made  his 
round  of  inspection,  he  noticed  the  men  standing  in  little  knots, 
engaged  in  busy  conversation,  interrupted  with  many  laughs. 
It  was  the  eve  of  St.  Patrick's  day.  These  lonely  fellows  were 
planning  their  celebration.  Stark  at  once  gave  orders  to  the 
sutler  to  issue  no  rum  to  his  men  without  written  permission 
from  him.  The  men,  not  to  be  foiled,  at  once  applied  to  him 
for  it,  but  Stark  put  them  off,  on  the  ground  that  his  hand  was 
lame  and  he  could  not  write.  The  Rangers  were  not  in  the 
best  of  humors,  when  they  saw  the  Irish  troops,  who  composed 
the  remainder  of  the  garrison,  freely  filling  their  bumpers  with 
fiery  draughts  in  honor  of  St.  Patrick's  wife,  and  making  the 
fort  ring  with  their  hilarious  songs  and  carousals.  That  night 
the  French,  knowing  the  habit  of  the  Irishmen,  to  celebrate  the 
occasion,  made  a  terrific  attack  on  the  fort.  But  instead  of 
surprising  a  set  of  intoxicated  fellows,,  they  were  met  at  the 
first  onslaught  by  the  cool  and  invincible  Rangers.  These  men 
bravely  fought  the  enemy  hand  to  hand,  repelling  assault  after 
assault,  until  their  drunken  companions  could  come  to  their 
senses.  The  Rangers  had  saved  the  fort. 

In  May  the  Rangers  were  ordered  to  Halifax,  to  join  in  an 
expedition  against  Louisburg.  Their  versatile  talents  were 
employed  during  harvest,  while  the  preparations  for  the  expe 
dition  were  going  on,  in  making  hay  for  the  horses.  The  expe- 

10 


182  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

dition  was  afterwards  abandoned  and  the  Rangers  ordered  to 
Fort  Edward. 

On  the  18th  of  December,  1757,  Rogers  led  his  men  on  a 
lengthy  scout.  On  their  way,  they  for  the  first  time  since  their 
previous  departure  in  April  looked  on  Fort  William  Henry. 
Then  it  had  been  a  solid  log  structure,  occupied  by  a  large  gar 
rison,  and  supplied,  as  Rogers  says,  "with  every  thing  they 
could  desire  for  their  comfort  and  convenience." 

We  smile  at  a  rough  Ranger's  notion  of  "  comfort  and  con 
venience."  It  was  filled  by  a  rude  frontier  fort,  with  its  long 
barrack  rooms,  the  walls  of  logs,  the  floor  of  puncheon ;  no  ceil 
ing  but  a  smoky  thatch,  the  cracks  stuffed  with  mud  and  straw 
to  keep  out  the  winter ;  no  windows  except  openings,  closed  with 
heavy  shutters ;  no  light  or  fire  except  from  an  immense  fire-place 
at  one  end,  from  which  the  heat  was  dissipated  long  before  it 
reached  the  frosty  region  at  the  opposite  end;  no  fare  but  salt 
pork,  soup,  and  black  bread,  eaten  at  greasy  log  tables,  twenty 
inches  wide,  set  with  a  gloomy  array  of  battered  iron  plates  and 
cups.  Yet  to  the  Ranger,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  sleep  often 
in  the  snow,  and  pass  days  and  nights  without  fire  or  shelter, 
the  rough  fort,  with  its  rougher  company,  was  "every  thing 
he  could  desire  for  comfort  and  convenience."  Looking  back 
to  the  luxury  of  their  life  in  Fort  William  Henry,  it  was  with 
keen  regrets  that  the  Rangers  now  beheld  it,  a  deserted  ruin, 
covered  with  half-burnt  rafters  and  fragments  of  exploded  cannon. 

With  a  British  army  of  six  thousand  men  only  fifteen  miles 
away,  the  French  had,  in  the  previous  August,  while  the  Rangers 
were  away,  been  allowed  to  besiege  Fort  Henry.  After  a 
brave  defense  of  six  days,  during  which  time  the  steady  can 
nonade  from  the  besiegers'  batteries  had  dismounted  their  guns 
and  rendered  the  place  no  longer  tenable,  its  defenders  had  sur 
rendered  on  condition  of  quarter.  Whatever  may  have  been 
the  wishes  of  the  French  commander,  the  Indian  allies,  of  whom 
was  composed  the  principal  part  of  his  army,  could  not  be 
restrained  from  violating  the  condition.  Many  prisoners  were 


ROGERS' S  RANGERS.  183 

massacred  outright.  Others  were  led  away  to  suffer  the  exquisite 
agonies  of  the  stake.  Worse  and  more  horrible  still,  an  Indian 
tribe  called  the  Cold  Country 'Cannibals,  who  were  present  at 
the  siege,  roasted  their  prisoners  and  ate  them.  For  this  state 
ment  there  is  unquestionable  authority. 

In  spite  of  these  terrible  associations,  the  sturdy  Rangers 
entered  the  ruin,  scraped  away  the  heavy  snow,  and  built  fires 
in  the  partial  shelter  of  a  corner  which  was  yet  standing,  and 
passed  the  night  "comfortably,"  as  Rogers  says.  As  they  con 
tinued  their  scout,  the  Rangers  met  with  fine  success,  and  on 
their  return  to  Fort  Edward,  December  27th,  they  were  enabled 
to  present  the  commandant  with  a  fine  Christmas  gift  of  several 
prisoners,  who  gave  full  and  accurate  information  of  the  enemy. 
During  this  winter  a  company  of  regular  soldiers  were  placed 
in  Rogers's  hands  to  learn  Ranger  tactics.  For  their  benefit  he 
drew  up  a  written  code,  which  was  published  with  his  memoirs. 

On  the  10th  of  March,  1758,  Rogers  received  orders  to 
march  with  one  hundred  and  eighty  Rangers  to  the  neighbor 
hood  of  Ticonderoga.  He  protested  that  the  force  was  too 
small,  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  take  four  hundred  men,  but 
his  requests  were  refused.  The  march  was  made  along  the 
solid  ice  of  the  lake,  the  party  lying  concealed  on  shore  during 
the  day  and  marching  by  night.  Since  the  capture  of  Fort 
Henry,  the  enemy  had  been  exceedingly  active,  strong  forces 
of  Indians  scouring  the  country  in  every  direction. 

The  nights  were  as  dark  as  pitch,  and  while  fifteen  Rangers 
on  skates  acted  as  an  advance  guard,  the  main  body  marched  as 
closely  together  as  possible,  to  avoid  separation.  When  within 
eight  miles  of  the  French  army,  an  advanced  guardsman  skated 
swiftly  to  the  rear  with  word  to  halt.  The  men  were  instantly 
ordered  to  sit  down  on  the  ice.  Rogers  went  forward.  The 
advance  guard  were  called  in,  and  thought  they  had  seen  a  fire 
on  the  east  shore.  The  sleighs  and  baggage  were  hastily  pulled 
ashore,  guards  posted,  and  the  main  body  marched  swiftly  for 
ward  to  attack  the  supposed  camp.  No  light  was  to  be  seen. 


184  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

At  last,  concluding  that  the  guard  had  mistaken  a  patch  of  snow 
or  some  rotten  wood,  which  in  the  night  has  a  phosphorescent 
glow,  for  a  hostile  camp  fire,  the  Rangers  returned  to  their 
packs,  and  passed  the  night  on  shore,  without  fire.  The  truth 
was,  the  guard  had  seen  a  real  camp  fire,  which  had  been  extin 
guished  on  the  approach  of  the  Rangers,  and  a  hasty  message 
sent  to  the  fort  of  their  presence.  In  the  morning  it  was  thought 
best  to  push  on  by  land  with  snow-shoes,  the  snow  being  now 
four  feet  deep. 

Toward  night  word  was  brought  that  a  band  of  ninety- six 
Indians  was  approaching.  On  the  left  of  the  line  of  march, 
was  a  small  rivulet,  and  on  the  right  a  steep  mountain.  The 
Rangers  extended  their  line,  and  at  the  first  fire  killed  fifty 
Indians.  Supposing  this  to  be  the  entire  force  of  the  enemy, 
the  Rangers  pressed  on  in  pursuit,  when  suddenly  they  were 
attacked  by  over  six  hundred  well  armed  Indians  and  Cana 
dians,  who  on  receipt  of  the  news  of  the  Rangers'  approach  had 
set  out  to  attack  them.  Rogers  shouted  to  his  men  to  fall  back 
quickly  to  their  former  ground,  but  before  they  reached  it  the 
life-blood  of  fifty  gallant  Rangers  reddened  the  snow  where  they 
had  fallen. 

With  cool  desperation  they  continued  to  fight  for  an  hour, 
against  the  overwhelming  numbers  of  the  foe.  Small  detach 
ments  were  thrown  out  on  the  right  and  left  to  prevent  flank 
ing.  But  the  contest  was  too  unequal.  One  hundred  and  eight 
out  of  the  one  hundred  and  eighty  Rangers  were  killed  on  the 
spot.  Of  these,  ten  men  under  Lieutenant  Phillips,  on  the  left 
flank,  had  been  surrounded  and  captured.  They  were  tied  to 
trees  in  sight  of  their  friends,  and  deliberately  hacked  to  pieces 
by  the  savages. 

At  last,  Rogers  cried  to  his  men  to  fly,  every  one  for  him 
self.  Rogers  himself,  with  twenty  men,  rushed  to  an  icy  preci 
pice,  over  a  hundred  feet  high,  which  sloped  abruptly  down  to 
the  lake.  Turning  and  firing  on  their  pursuers,  Rogers  and  his 
followers  deliberately  jumped  over  the  perilous  precipice  and 


KOGERS'S  RANGERS.  185 

slid  down  to  the  lake  with  terrific  force.  The  spot  is  still 
pointed  out  as  "Rogers's  Leap."  By  this  exploit,  these  men, 
though  severely  injured,  escaped  alive,  one  of  their  number 
making  his  way  to  Fort  Edward,  and  sending  out  a  relief  party 
with  sleighs  and  blankets. 

But  others  were  not  so  fortunate.  Accompanying  the 
Rangers  had  been  two  British  officers,  Captains  Creed  and  Kent, 
who  had  gone  out  to  study  their  mode  of  warfare.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  fight  Rogers  had  advised  them  to  retire,  but 
being  unused  to  travel  on  snow-shoes,  ignorant  of  the  country, 
and  seeing  their  friends  attacked  by  such  a  multitude  of  yelling 
savages,  painted  in  the  most  gaudy  colors,  they  chose  like  brave 
men  to  remain  and  fight.  At  the  retreat,  Rogers  shouted  to 
them  to  fly  with  him,  but  in  their  efforts  to  escape  their  snow- 
shoes  came  off,  and  the  poor  fellows  sunk  breast  deep  in  the 
soft  surface.  By  the  strangest  good  fortune  the  savages  over 
looked  them  in  the  fury  of  their  pursuit  after  Rogers.  Not  till 
the  moon  arose  did  they  venture  to  stir.  Then  with  fluttering 
hearts  they  stole  through  the  forest,  knowing  nothing  of  their 
course,  but  hoping  that  it  took  them  farther  from  the  Indians. 
When  morning  dawned,  it  found  them  still  struggling  on  through 
the  snow,  along  the  shore  of  some  body  of  water. 

As  the  fear  of  savages  departed,  another  dreadful  apprehen 
sion  laid  hold  of  them.  Which  way  was  the  fort?  The  dangers 
of  death  from  exposure  or  starvation  stared  them  in  the  face. 
Suddenly  they  saw  a  man.  He  came  towards  them.  He  proved 
to  be  a  servant  of  Rogers,  and  claimed  to  know  their  where 
abouts  and  the  way  to  the  fort.  He  affirmed  that  they  were 
on  South  Bay  and  not  Lake  George.  All  day  they  followed 
their  guide,  at  first  on  the  ice  and  then  on  foot,  through  the 
slavish  snow. 

At  night  they  halted.  Creed  and  Kent  had  thrown  off  their 
coats  and  fur  caps  in  the  battle,  and  had  on  only  their  vests. 
Over  their  heads  they  tied  handkerchiefs.  For  a  single  blanket 
they  would  have  given  worlds.  The  third  day  the  guide  prom- 


186  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ised  that  the  fort  would  be  reached.  But  at  sunset  their  weary 
eyes  beheld  nothing  but  the  same  vast  expanse  of  whiteness. 
The  fourth  day  he  said  it  would  be  impossible  to  fail,  but  the 
day  passed  with  the  prophecy  unfulfilled.  Again  and  again 
their  snow-shoes  broke.  Again  and  again,  with  benumbed  fin 
gers  they  tried  to  tie  and  patch  them  up.  Every  few  paces 
they  sank  up  to  the  breast  in  the  snow.  The  hardships  were 
intolerable.  They  scrambled  up  mountains  full  of  dangerous 
chasms  and  hidden  holes.  They  made  detours  to  avoid  impas 
sable  forests  of  fallen  timber,  prostrated  by  some  tornado. 

At  the  outset  their  entire  stock  of  food  had  been  a  link  of 
bologna  sausage  and  a  little  ginger.  This  had  long  since  been 
exhausted,  and  for  two  days  they  had  lived  on  some  frozen 
berries  and  water.  Their  nights  had  been  passed  without  cover, 
and  with  tlie  scantiest  fires ;  for  without  a  hatchet,  by  their 
utmost  efforts,  they  could  only  wrench  a  few  twigs  from  the 
frozen  trees  for  fuel.  During  the  fifth  day  they  struggled 
along  a  dreadful  road  in  the  mountains,  with  only  one  snow- 
shoe  apiece. 

Towards  noon  on  the  sixth  day  they  came  once  more  to  the 
ice.  At  a  single  glance  the  unfortunate  men  perceived  it  to  be  the 
same  spot  which  they  had  left  four  days  before.  This  terrible  dis 
covery  paralyzed  them  with  horror.  Their  only  chance  was  to 
throw  themselves  into  the  hands  of  the  French  at  Fort  Carillon. 
All  day  and  night  the  wind  blew  hard,  and  a  freezing  rain 
incrusted  their  clothes  with  ice.  The  remainder  of  the  sad 
story  we  give  in  Captain  Creed's  own  words. 

"We  traveled  a  few  miles,  but  the  snow  driving  full  in  our 
faces,  made  every  thing  appear  as  dark  as  the  fog  upon  the 
banks  of  Newfoundland.  As  the  storm  cleared  up  we  looked 
in  vain  for  the  fort.  Proceeding  onward  by  land  we  came  to  a 
large  waterfall.  I  attempted  to  ford  the  stream  above  it,  and 
had  almost  gained  the  opposite  shore  where  the  water  reached 
my  breast,  when  the  rapidity  of  the  stream  hurried  me  off  the 
slippery  rocks  and  plunged  me  under  water.  I  lost  my  fusee, 


ROGERS'S  RANGERS.  187 

and  narrowly  escaped  being  carried  over  the  fall.  Mr.  Kent 
and  the  guide  fared  no  better,  but  the  hopes  of  reaching  a  fire 
made  us  think  lightly  of  the  matter. 

"As  night  approached  we  labored  through  the  snow,  being 
now  certain  that  the  fort  was  near ;  but  our  guide  now  con 
fessed  for  the  first  time  that  he  was  at  a  loss.  We  plainly  per 
ceived  that  his  brain  was  affected ;  he  saw  Indians  all  around 
him,  and,  though  we  have  since  learned  that  we  had  every  thing 
to  fear  from  them,  yet  that  was  a  danger  we  did  not  think  of. 
We  even  shouted  to  give  notice  where  we  were,  but  could 
neither  see  nor  hear  of  any  one  to  lead  us  right.  If  we  halted 
we  became  pillars  of  ice.  We  therefore  resolved  to  make  a  fire, 
though  the  danger  was  apparent.  We  had  one  dry  cartridge  on 
hand,  but  in  trying  to  catch  a  fire  with  a  little  of  it,  by  means 
of  my  pistol,  Mr.  Kent  held  the  cartridge  so  near  as  to  have  it 
blow  up  in  our  faces,  almost  blinding  him  and  causing  great 
pain.  This  appeared  to  be  the  last  stroke  of  fortune. 

"  We  had  now  no  hopes  of  fire  and  were  not  anxious  for  life, 
but  wished  to  carry  the  scene  out  in  a  manner  becoming  to  sol 
diers.  We  made  a  path  round  a  tree  and  there  exercised  all 
night,  though  scarcely  able  to  stand  or  to  prevent  each  other 
from  sleeping.  Our  guide,  notwithstanding  repeated  cautions, 
strayed  from  us,  sat  down,  and  died  immediately.  On  the 
morning  of  the  20th  we  saw  the  fort,  and  approached  it  with  a 
white  flag.  The  officers  ran  violently  toward  us,  and  we  were 
saved  from  a  danger  we  did  not  apprehend,  for  we  were  informed 
that  if  the  Indians,  who  were  close  after  them,  had  seized  us 
first,  it  would  not  have  been  in  the  power  of  the  French,  to 
have  prevented  our  being  hurried  to  the  camp,  and  perhaps  the 
next  day  to  Montreal,  or  killed  for  not  being  able  to  march." 

The  prisoners  were  afterwards  exchanged  by  the  French. 

From  this  time  on  in  the  war  the  Rangers  operated  in  larger 
bodies  and  in  more  important  movements.  All  the  companies 
were  concentrated  at  Fort  Edward.  Rogers  was  raised  to  the  rank 
of  major.  Their  history  during  the  years  of  1758  and  1759  is 


188  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

full  of  romance,  adventure,  and  excitement.  When  we  pass  it 
over,  we  leave  out  their  heroic  service  in  the  fatal  attack  of  the 
British  on  Fort  Ticonderoga,  from  which  the  army  retreated, 
leaving  two  thousand  of  their  number  slain.  We  omit,  too,  the 
thrilling  story  of  their  exploits  in  the  triumphant  expedition 
against  Crown  Point.  In  these  movements  the  Rangers  formed 
a  part  of  the  general  army,  whose  defeats  and  victories  are  a 
part  of  history. 

When  the  British  occupied  Crown  Point,  they  dispatched  a 
messenger  with  a  flag  of  truce  and  proposals  of  peace  to  the 
St.  Francis  Indians.  They  dwelt  in  the  heart  of  Canada,  mid 
way  between  Montreal  and  Quebec,  at  a  point  three  miles  from 
the  St.  Lawrence  River.  They  were  notoriously  attached  to 
the  French,  and  no  other  six  tribes  of  Indians  combined  had 
done  the  English  more  injury  than  the  single  one  of  St.  Fran 
cis.  Their  unspeakable  ferocity,  their  exhaustless  hatred  and 
malicious  industry,  had  resulted  in  the  murder  of  over  six  hun 
dred  colonists  during  the  years  of  the  war.  On  the  13th  of 
September  the  commandant  of  Crown  Point  learned  that  his 
messenger,  bearing  the  flag  of  truce,  had  been  coolly  taken 
prisoner  and  subjected  to  insult  and  indignity.  Shortly  after 
receipt  of  this  news  an  orderly  handed  Major  Rogers  the 
following  : 

"  You  are  this  night  to  take  a  detachment  of  two  hundred 
picked  Rangers  and  proceed  to  Missisqui  Bay,  from  which  you 
will  proceed  to  attack  the  .enemy  at  the  settlements  of  the  St. 
Francis  Indians,  on  the  south  side  of  the  St.  Lawrence  River, 
in  'such  a  manner  as  shall  most  effectually  disgrace  and  injure 
the  enemy  and  redound  to  the  honor  and  success  of  his  maj 
esty's  arms.  Remember  the  barbarities  committed  by  the 
enemy's  Indian  scoundrels  on  every  occasion  where  they  have 
had  opportunities  of  showing  their  infamous  cruelties  toward 
his  majesty's  subjects.  Take  your  revenge,  but  remember 
that,  although  the  villains  have  promiscuously  murdered  women 
and  children  of  all  ages,  it  is  my  order  that  no  women  or  chil- 


ROGERS' S  RANGERS.  189 

dren  should  be  killed  or  hurt.     When  you  have  performed  this 
service,  you  will  again  join  the  army,  wherever  it  may  be. 

"Yours,  etc.,  JEFF.  AMHERST. 

"  Camp  at  Crown  Point,  Sept.  13,  1759. 
"To  MAJOR  ROGERS." 

What  a  commission !  Two  hundred  men  ordered  to  make  a 
journey  of  more  than  three  hundred  miles,  through  a  country 
barren  of  provisions,  and  occupied  by  the  whole  French  and 
Indian  army  of  fifteen  thousand  men;  when  at  that  distance 
from  support  and  their  base  of  supplies,  to  attack  and  destroy 
by  stealth  a  powerful  tribe  of  Indians,  which  had  been  a  terror 
through  the  whole  war,  and  after  all  this  to  effect  a  retreat 
by  the  same  tremendous  journey,  only  through  a  hostile  country 
aroused  by  a  knowledge  of  their  presence,  and  exerting  every 
effort  to  destroy  them. 

That  night  as  the  moon  arose  the  little  band  sallied  from 
the  fort,  and,  with  firm  tread  and  rigid  countenances,  swiftly 
embarked  in  a  fleet  of  canoes.  Their  progress  down  the  lake 
was  itself  one  of  difficulty  and  danger.  Its  waters  were 
patrolled  incessantly  by  hostile  schooners,  armed  with  cannon, 
and  other  mischievous  engines  of  war,  for  the  discovery  and 
destruction  of  the  English.  By  night  only  did  the  Rangers 
advance. 

On  the  fifth  day  a  keg  of  gunpowder  exploded  in  their 
camp,  injuring  a  number  of  men,  who,  together  with  some  sick, 
were  forced  to  return  to  Crown  Point,  making  a  defection  of 
forty-four  men,  one-fourth  of  the  entire  company.  At  the  end 
of  ten  days,  Rogers,  having  successfully  eluded  the  enemy, 
landed  at  Missisqui  Bay.  Here  he  stored  the  boats  and  provi 
sions  enough  to  take  the  Rangers  back  to  Crown  Point.  Two 
trusty  Indians  were  left  in  charge,  with  orders  to  remain  until 
their  return,  unless  the  enemy  should  discover  the  boats  and 
strike  the  trail  of  the  Rangers.  In  this  case  the  two  guards 
were  to  follow  the  Rangers  at  the  top  of  their  speed,  bringing 
the  fatal  news. 


190  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  as  the  Rangers  went 
into  camp,  the  two  Indians  left  behind  came  running  in,  breath 
less  and  excited.  Four  hundred  French  and  Indians  had  dis 
covered  the  boats  and  destroyed  them,  and  two  hundred  of 
them  were  now  in  pursuit  of  the  Rangers.  "This,"  says  the 
dauntless  Rogers,  "  caused  us  some  uneasiness.  Should  the 
enemy  overtake  us,  and  we  have  the  advantage  in  an  encounter, 
they  would  be  immediately  re-enforced,  while  we  could  expect 
no  assistance,  being  so  far  advanced  beyond  our  military  posts ; 
and  our  boats  and  provision  likewise  being  taken,  cut  off  all 
hope  of  retreat  by  the  route  we  came." 

A  hurried  council  of  war  was  held.  The  situation  was  des 
perate.  But  the  motto  of  Rogers  was,  "  In  boldness  lies  safety." 
It  was  determined  to  push  on  to  their  destination,  at  the  high 
est  possible  speed,  avoiding  an  encounter,  simply  by  out-march 
ing  their  pursuers,  strike  their  blow  at  the  St.  Francis  settle 
ments,  and  retreat  quickly.  The  survivors  were  to  make  their 
way  back  by  the  roundabout  route  of  the  Connecticut  River. 
Lieutenant  McMullen  was  dispatched  to  Crown  Point,  to  inform 
General  Amherst  of  the  disaster,  and  have  him  send  relief  and 
provisions  at  the  Ammonoosuck  River,  "  that  being  the  way  we 
should  return,  if  we  ever  did  return  at  all." 

These  arrangements  were  quickly  made.  McMullen,  with  a 
small  sack  of  food,  started  back  on  his  lonely  journey  to  Crown 
Point ;  the  others  hurriedly  prepared  for  the  race  with  their 
pursuers.  No  sleep  that  night;  the  sunrise  must  find  them 
many  a  mile  on  their  way.  Much  of  the  time  they  advanced 
in  double  quick  time,  the  hardy  Rangers'  being  able  to  run  for 
hours  in  a  sort  of  dog-trot.  After  the  first  night's  march  they 
uniformly  began  their  day's  advance  one  hour  before  dawn,  and 
continued  it  without  halt,  their  meals  being  eaten  as  they 
marched,  until  one  hour  after  dark. 

Nine  days  they  marched  through  a  spruce  bog,  where  the 
ground  was  low  and  swampy,  the  greater  part  being  covered 
with  water  a  foot  deep.  When  the  weary  Rangers  encamped 


ROGER&S  RANGERS.  191 

at  night,  it  was  necessary  to  go  into  the  darkened  forest  and 
cut  boughs  from  the  trees  and  construct  a  kind  of  hammock  to 
protect  themselves  from  the  water.  The  day  before  their  des 
tination  was  reached,  they  came  upon  the  St.  Francis  River, 
with  its  swift  current.  Placing  the  tallest  men  up  stream,  and 
joining  hands  in  a  single  line,  the  entire  company  passed  the 
ford  in  safety.  Their  only  loss  was  a  few  guns,  which  were 
recovered  by  diving  to  the  bottom  of  the  river.  Towards  even 
ing  of  the  twenty-second  day  from  their  departure  from  Crown 
Point,  when  the  scout,  as  usual,  climbed  a  tall  tree  for  recon- 
noissance,  he  saw  at  a  distance  of  three  miles  the  unconscious 
village  of  the  St.  Francis  Indians,  over  which  hung  the  light 
ning-charged  clouds  of  doom. 

The  Rangers  were  ordered  to  refresh  themselves,  and  pre 
pare  for  action  on  the  following  morning.  Every  gun  was 
carefully  dried  and  freshly  loaded;  ammunition  bags  were 
replenished,  and  such  readjustment  of  clothing  made  as  was 
possible.  While  the  men  rolled  themselves  in  their  blankets 
for  a  sound  sleep,  Rogers  and  two  trusty  companions  stole  out 
under  the  starry  sky  towards  the  fated  settlement.  As  they 
drew  softly  near,  wild  shouts  of  merriment  issued  from  the 
wigwams.  Around  enormous  fires  were  dancing  in  frantic  glee 
hilarious  circles  of  warriors  and  maidens.  It  was  a  wedding 
dance.  These  wild  Indians  had  turned  aside,  for  the  moment, 
from  thoughts  of  war  and  bloodshed  to  the  mild  gentleness  of 
love.  A  noble  brave  had  chosen  to  himself  a  dusky  bride.  The 
chord  of  sentiment  touched  at  the  incident  still  trembled  respon 
sive  in  the  savage  breasts.  Their  festivities  were  bright,  inno 
cent,  and  happy,  shining  like  a  star  in  the  midst  of  all  the  gloom 
and  blackness  of  their  lives. 

All  unconscious  of  their  danger,  the  dance  went  on,  each 
moment  with  madder,  merrier  glee.  The  squaws  ran  about, 
serving  to  all  who  wished  the  rare  bounties  of  the  wedding 
feast.  The  old  men  stood  apart  from  the  revelers,  smoking 
their  pipes.  Ever  and  anon  their  stately  dignity  gave  way  to 


192  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

unwonted  outbursts  of  hideous  laughter.  Within  the  wigwam 
of  the  bride  and  groom,  was  dispensed  with  careless  hand  the 
blazing  draughts  of  rum  to  the  happy  throng. 

At  last  these  potations  began  to  have  their  effect.  One  after 
another  of  the  braves  staggered  to  his  wigwam,  and  sunk  into 
drunken  slumber.  The  fires  burned  lower.  The  circle  of  dan 
cers  grew  smaller,  until  only  a  handful  of  uproarious  fellows 
and  their  girls  kept  up  their  shrieking  orgies.  At  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning  Rogers  and  his  companions  returned  quickly  to 
their  camp.  A  shake  of  the  shoulder  and  a  whispered  command 
roused  each  sleeping  Ranger  to  his  feet.  Blankets  were  hastily 
rolled  up,  packs  adjusted,  and  guns  examined.  A  frugal  meal 
was  eaten  standing. 

By  three  o'clock  the  Rangers  were  in  motion  for  the  village. 
With  stealthy  step  they  advanced  to  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
Another  halt  was  made.  Rogers  crawled  forward  to  make 
another  reconnoissance.  Meanwhile  the  men  lay  flat  on  their 
faces.  At  five  o'clock  Rogers  returned.  The  feast  had  ended. 
The  last  reveler  was  wrapped  in  oblivion,  and  the  entire  settle 
ment  was  asleep.  The  Rangers  were  disencumbered  of  all  their 
packs.  Weapons  formed  their  only  load.  The  men  were  formed 
in  three  columns.  They  were  to  fall  on  the  settlement  on  three 
sides  at  once. 

The  first  faint  flush  of  dawn  reddening  the  east  had  only 
obscured  a  few  stars  as  the  men  moved  rapidly  forward  through 
the  frosty  air.  When  the  settlement  was  reached  each  man 
knew  his  work.  The  nearest  wigwams  were  entered.  In  a 
moment  the  throat  of  every  sleeping  warrior  was  cut  from  ear 
to  ear.  The  knife  only  was  used  as  yet.  No  guns  were  fired. 
In  this  way  the  deadly  Rangers  had  massacred  two-thirds  of 
the  warriors  in  the  settlement  before  a  single  note  of  alarm. 
Many  children  and  squaws,  who  slept  soundly,  were  left  undis 
turbed.  Such  was  the  case  with  the  new  bride,  whom  they 
found  locked  in  her  husband's  arms.  Poor  sleeper;  too  soon, 
alas,  too  soon,  would  she  awaken  to  find  all  joy,  all  light,  all 


ROGER&S  RANGERS.  195 

love,  gone  out  from  life.  If,  perchance,  a  child's  wide  wonder 
ing  eyes  opened  as  the  glittering  knife  swept  across  its  father's 
throat,  it  was  the  work  of  an  instant  to  gag  its  mouth  and  hand 
it  over  as  a  prisoner. 

At  last,  the  groans  of  some  dying  brave,  or  the  screams  of 
an  awakened  squaw,  gave  the  alarm.  Small  time  was  there  for 
the  warriors  to  reach  for  weapons.  Their  only  safety  lay  in 
flight.  Only  one  side  lay  open ;  that  was  the  river.  But  as 
the  canoes  of  the  frightened  savages  pushed  out  into  the  cur 
rent,  the  swift  messengers  of  lead  sped  from  the  gun  of  the 
destroyers  and  stilled  every  noble  form  in  death.  Five  English 
captives  were  found  and  rescued.  The  scalps  of  more  than  six 
hundred  murdered  white  men  hung  from  the  wigwam  poles. 
These  sights  were  not  unnoticed  by  the  Rangers.  SnatcKing 
brands  from  the  smouldering  embers  of  the  wedding  fires,  the 
wigwams  were  ignited.  Black  volumes  of  smoke,  pierced  by 
forked  tongues  of  flame,  rolled  upward  to  the  peaceful  sky  of 
the  morning,  and  draped  its  blue  canopy  with  the  mournful 
color  which  all  the  world  has  chosen  for  the  sign  of  sorrow. 

By  seven  o'clock,  with  the  exception  of  three  wigwams,  pre 
served  for  their  own  shelter,  the  Rangers  had  utterly  destroyed 
the  village  and  its  inhabitants.  Two  hundred  wariors  had  been 
slain,  while  of  their  own  number  but  one  had  been  killed  and 
two  or  three  wounded.  From  their  prisoners,  who,  excepting 
two  Indian  boys  and  three  girls,  were  shortly  set  at  liberty, 
Rogers  learned  that  his  pursuers  had  missed  him;  but  that 
their  messengers  had  sent  word  of  his  approach  ;  that  only  four 
miles  down  the  river  were  a  force  of  five  hundred  French  and 
Indians,  waiting  at  a  settlement  which  was  supposed  to  be 
Rogers's  destination,  instead  of  the  St.  Francis  settlement. 
While  this  examination  took  place,  the  Rangers  supplied  them 
selves  with  corn  from  the  granaries  of  the  village.  A  council 
of  war  determined  that  instant  retreat  by  way  of  the  Connecticut 
River  and  Number  Four  must  be  begun. 

The  hardships   of   the  retreat  far   exceeded   those   of   the 


196  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

advance.  The  way  led  over  barren  mountains  and  through 
endless  swamps.  In  one  of  these  morasses,  trusting  an  Indian 
squaw  for  guidance,  they  were  led  about  three  days,  and  brought 
back  to  their  own  tracks,  to  gain  time  for  their  pursuers.  After 
eight  days'  travel,  provisions  gave  out,  and  the  Rangers  divided 
into  small  companies  of  eight  or  ten  each,  for  procuring  sub 
sistence  from  roots  and  berries. 

One  of  these  detachments,  lingering  behind  the  rest,  was 
surprised  by  the  enemy,  and  seven  of  their  men  taken  prisoner. 
Two  other  detachments,  similarly  attacked,  had  nearly  all  their 
number  slain.  Some  of  the  men,  being  still  in  fair  condition, 
preferred  to  make  their  way  directly  to  Crown  Point.  The 
bulk  of  the  company,  however,  was  to  rendezvous  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Ammonoosuck  River,  a  hundred  miles  above  Number 
Four  (now  Charleston,  New  Hampshire),  where  Rogers  con 
fidently  expected  provisions  and  relief,  in  accordance  with  the 
message  sent  to  Crown  Point  by  McMullen,  after  the  news  of 
the  destruction  of  their  boats. 

When  at  last  the  straggling  companies  of  wretched  men 
reached  the  rendezvous,  they  found  camp  fires  still  burning,  but 
no  succor.  They  fired  their  guns,  and  shouted  for  help,  but 
only  the  mocking  echoes  of  the  forest  answered  them.  Not 
till  some  time  later  did  they  learn  that  in  accordance  with 
McMullen's  message  provisions  had  been  sent  to  this  spot  in 
charge  of  a  Lieutenant  Stevens.  Arriving  there  and  not  find 
ing  Rogers,  the  fellow  thought  proper,  after  waiting  only  two 
days,  to  return,  taking  his  provisions  with  him.  His  departure 
took  place  just  two  hours  before  the  exhausted  and  famished 
Rangers  arrived.  The  signal  guns  fired  by  the  latter  were 
heard  by  Stevens,  but  only  served  to  hasten  his  march,  as  he 
believed  them  to  be  fired  by  Indians. 

The  disappointment  was  cruel.  It  was  evident  that  the 
men  who,  nerved  by  the  hope  of  succor,  had  exhausted  all  their 
little  remaining  strength  to  reach  this  point,  could  proceed  no 
farther.  Relief  must  be  had,  or  the  whole  party  die  in  the 


ROGERS1  S  RANGERS.  197 

wilderness.  "In  this  emergency,"  says  Rogers,  "I  resolved  to 
make  the  best  of  my  way  to  Number  Four,  leaving  the  remainder 
of  the  party,  now  unable  to  proceed  any  farther,  to  obtain  such 
wretched  subsistence  as  the  wilderness  afforded,  until  I  could 
relieve  them,  which  I  promised  to  do  in  ten  days.  Captain 
Ogden,  myself,  and  a  captive  Indian  boy,  embarked  upon  a  raft 
of  dry  pine  trees.  The  current  carried  us  down  the  stream  in  the 
middle  of  the  river,  where  we  kept  our  miserable  vessel  with 
such  paddles  as  could  be  split  and  hewn  with  small  hatchets. 

"The  second  day  we  reached  White  River  Falls,  and  very 
narrowly  escaped  running  over  them.  The  raft  went  over,  and 
was  lost,  but  our  remaining  strength  enabled  us  to  land  and 
march  by  the  falls.  At  the  foot  of  them  Captain  Ogden  and 
the  Ranger  killed  some  red  squirrels,  and  also  a  partridge,  while 
I  attempted  to  construct  another  raft.  Not  being  able  to  cut 
the  trees,  I  burnt  them  down,  and  burnt  them  at  proper  lengths. 
This  was  our  third  day's  work  after  leaving  our  companions. 

"  The  next  day  we  floated  down  to  Nattoquichie  Falls,  which 
are  about  fifty  yards  in  length.     Here  we  landed,  and  Captain 
Ogden  held  the  raft  by  a  withe  of  hazel  bushes,  while  I  went 
below  the   falls   to  swim  in,  board,  and  paddle  it  ashore;  this 
being  our  only  hope  for  life,  as  we  had  not  strength  sufficient 
to  make  a  new  raft  should  this  be  lost.     I  succeeded  in  secur 
ing  it,  and  next  morning  we  floated  down  within  a  short  di^- 
tance  of  Number   Four.     Here   we  found   several  men  cuttfets 
timber,  who   relieved   and   assisted   us    to   the   fort.     A   cit  oi 
was  immediatly  dispatched  up  the  river  with  provu 
reached  the  men  at  Coos  in  four  days  after,  whljy^^T  which 
my   agreement,  was    the   tenth   after  I  left  t^Taccording  to 
afterwards  I  went  up  the  river  with  two  oth^em-     Two   daJs 
others  of  my  party  who  might  be  coming/®1"  canoes  to  relieve 

Relief  parties  were  also  sent  out  in  (f^at  way. 
up  stragglers.     Slowly  the  haggard  mAther  directions  to  hunt 
fort   at   Number  Four.     It  was  two   fer  were  gathered  at  the 

recovered  sufficiently  to  proceed  to  C/jnths    before   the7  had 

jwn  Point. 


198  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

With  this  story  of  the  unfortunate  expedition  against  the 
St.  Francis  Indians,  a  military  exploit  which,  for  boldness  and 
dexterity,  is  hardly  equaled  in  the  history  of  our  country,  our 
recital  of  the  story  of  Rogers's  Rangers  must  close.  They 
continued  their  operations  until  the  close  of  the  war  in  1760, 
when  they  were  directed  to  take  formal  possession  of  all  the 
French  forts  west  of  the  Alleghanies,  in  accordance  with  their 
surrender  by  France. 

After  performing  this  duty  with  approved  success,  Major 
Rogers  went  to  England,  where  he  resided  till  the  opening  of 
the  Revolutionary  War.  -He  then  returned  to  America,  and 
visited  the  American  camp,  but  was  refused  admission  by  Gen 
eral  Washington,  who  suspected  him  as  a  British  spy.  Rogers 
was,  however,  visited  by  Colonel  Stark,  and  other  old  Kangers, 
who  had  since  enlisted  in  the  cause  of  the  colonies.  He  seemed 
greatly  chagrined  by  Washington's  treatment,  and  soon  after 
joined  Lord  Howe,  who  commanded  the  British  army.  In  a 
short  time,  however,  he  returned  to  England,  and  never  again 
visited  the  land  in  which  he  had  won  undying  fame.  It  was 
the  opinion  of  General  Stark,  and  other  friends,  that  Washing 
ton  misjudged  Rogers,  and  that  he  would  have  proved  a  true 
and  valuable  soldier  in  the  American  army  had  he  not  been 

tmis  trusted.    He  was  denounced  as  a  Tory  before  he  had  declared 

Mis  principles. 

chai 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES. 


199 


CHAPTER  YI. 

THE   ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES. 

tj.T  is  only  adventurers  who  have  adventures. 
Quiet  men  have  quiet  lives.  It  is  the  dare 
devil  who  is  the  hero  of  thrilling  exploits  and 
startling  situations.  The  dangers  of  frontier 
life  attract  only  the  boldest  spirits.  For  these 
reasons  it  is,  that  early  American  history  con 
tains  more  romance,  more  adventure  and  more 
excitement  than  the  annals  of  any  other  period 
or  place.  The  colonies  were  populated  with 
brave,  adventurous  men,  the  most  daring  spirits  of  the  age.  Such 
men  as  these  were  sure  to  find  themselves  in  exciting  situ 
ations  and  to  perform  heroic  deeds. 

Other  countries  and  peoples  than  ours  have  had  to  gratify 
the  appetite  for  adventure  with  fictitious  exploits  and  imagi 
nary  heroes.  The  French  feast  on  such  unsubstantial  banquets 
as  the  wild  and  improbable  feats  of  the  mysterious  Count  of 
Monte  Christo,  and  the  feverish  tragedy  of  the  Wandering  Jew. 
Englishmen  revel  in  the  romance  of  chivalry  and  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  as  pictured  in  "Ivanhoe,"  "The  Black  Dwarf,"  and  the 
"  Idyls  of  the  King."  America,  however,  has  within  her  reach, 
not  only  the  brilliant  literature  of  fancy,  but  the  equally  thril 
ling  and  far  more  substantial  stories  of  the  feats  of  our  fathers 
upon  the  frontier. 

The  personal  characters  of  these  dauntless  men,  their  inex 
haustible  resources,   their   marvelous  facility  of  adaptation,  is 
11 


200  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

nowhere  better  shown  than  in  the  stories  of  their  captivities. 
To  give  just  a  taste  of  this  racy  food,  we  present  the  stories*  of 
three  of  them,  taken  prisoner  at  different  times  and  under  dif 
ferent  circumstances,  during  the  French  and  Indian  war. 

MAJOE  ROBERT  STOBO, 

a  brave  and  generous  Scotchman,  was  appointed  one  of  the 
officers  in  the  little  company  with  which  George  Washington,  in 
1754,  attempted  to  protect  the  fort  at  the  forks  of  the  Ohio. 
He  traveled  in  great  style,  in  a  covered  wagon  with  a  dozen 
servants,  and  keeping  a  sumptuous  table,  adorned  with  spark 
ling  wines  and  smoking  dishes  of  game.  When  Washington 
was  surrounded  at  Fort  Necessity,  he  negotiated  a  surrender, 
by  the  terms  of  which  his  men  were  allowed  to  retreat  unharmed 
from  the  Ohio  valley,  and  certain  French  captives  were  to  be 
restored.  As  a  guarantee  for  the  latter  condition,  our  gallant 
Stobo  was  handed  over  as  a  hostage  to  the  French  at  Fort 
du  Quesne. 

The  governor  of  Virginia  refused  to  carry  out  Washington's 
promises,  and  one  pleasant  morning  Stobo  found  himself  a  gen 
uine  prisoner.  McKnight  furnishes  us  with  a  graphic  outline 
of  his  adventures,  which  we  use  with  slight  abridgment  or 
change.  Stobo  at  once  began  to  reflect  how  he  could  throw 
Fort  du  Quesne  into  the  hands  of  the  English.  He  wrote  let 
ters  to  Washington,  giving  a  full  plan  of  the  fort,  information 
as  to  its  garrison,  and  urging  in  the  most  strenuous  manner  that 
an  expedition  be  fitted  out  at  once  for  the  capture  of  the  fort. 
These  letters  he  intrusted  to  Indian  messengers,  staking  his  life 
on  their  fidelity.  The  messengers  kept  faith.  The  letters 
reached  Washington  all  right,  but  no  expedition  could  be  fitted 
out  that  year.  Meanwhile  Stobo  was  sent  to  Quebec. 

Although  a  prisoner,  Stobo's  gay  and  popular  manners,  his 
genial  nature  and  his  society  accomplishments  secured  him  every 
privilege.  He  was  the  boon  companion  of  the  army  officers, 
and  the  favored  gallant  of  every  lovely  lady  in  Quebec.  Care- 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  201 

less  and  gay,  he  determined  to  add  to  his  accomplishments  a 
knowledge  of  the  French  language.  At  this  announcement  all 
the  salons  of  the  city  applauded.  Stobo  reigned  without  a 
rival. 

But  a  change  came  o'er  the  spirit  of  his  dreams.  Braddock 
had  marched  to  the  forks  of  the  Ohio,  carrying  with  him  Stobo's 
letters,  as  a  guide  in  the  attack.  By  strange  fatuity,  these  com 
promising  epistles,  which  had  escaped  falling  into  the  hands  of  the 
French  when  it  might  have  been  expected,  now  that  their  writer 
was  seven  hundred  miles  away,  and  had  forgotten  all  about 
them,  were  left  among  the  baggage  piled  helter-skelter  in  the 
bloody  defile,  where  Braddock's  army  was  destroyed.  Here 
they  were  found  by  the  victors. 

Stobo  took  no  more  lessons  in  French  from  his  amorous 
lady  loves.  He  was  clapped  into  prison  as  a  spy,  and  notified 
that  he  would  be  tried  for  his  life. 

He  effected  his  escape  from  prison,  but  a  reward  of  six 
thousand  livres,  offered  to  any  who  would  bring  him  in  alive 
or  dead,  filled  the  woods  with  thousands  of  eager  persons,  and 
he  was  soon  caught  and  thrust  into  a  black,  horrible  dungeon. 
He  found  nothing  but  cold  stone  to  sit  or  lie  on,  and  on  the 
floor  was  daily  placed  an  earthen  pan  with  bread  and  water  for 
his  sustenance.  In  this  dark  and  dismal  dungeon  his  eyes  soon 
acquired  such  power  that  he  could  discern  a  rat  running  over 
the  floor,  a  feat  for  which  his  opportunities  were  ample. 

In  November  our  hero  was  brought  before  the  military  court, 
and  after  a  brief,  stern  trial,  sentenced  to  death.  The  day  for 
his  execution  was  fixed,  and  he  was  remanded  to  prison.  But 
his  indomitable  heart  was  yet  unshaken,  and  he  busied  himself 
meditating  over  plans  of  escape.  The  judgment  of  the  court, 
however,  was  not  approved  by  King  Louis,  and  the  dungeon 
was  exchanged  for  a  jail,  with  two  vigilant  sentinels  at  the 
door,  and  two  below  the  single  window. 

Many  were  his  plans  for  'escape.  The  window  offered  him 
the  best  chance.  He  found  it  firmly  barred  with  iron  up  and 


202  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

down,  but  not  across.  He  must  cut  a  groove  in  the  hard  stone, 
so  as  to  throw  one  of  the  bars  aside.  He  had  but  a  sorry  knife, 
round  at  the  point,  and  as  it  would  imperil  all  to  make  a  noise, 
his  business  must  be  done  by  careful,  silent  rubbing.  The  work 
went  slowly  on.  Meanwhile,  he  must  gather  provisions  for  his 
long  journey.  He  managed  to  secrete  a  sort  of  knapsack,  and 
on  the  stove  he  parched  grain  to  carry  with  him.  His  room 
was  always  open  to  his  jailers,  and  he  had  to  fill  the  groove  as 
fast  as  he  made  it  by  stuffing  it  with  chewed  bread,  which  was 
then  covered  with  sand  or  ashes.  Sometimes  the  grating  noise 
would  bring  in  the  jailer,  but  the  groove  was  so  neatly  con 
cealed  and  the  major  was  generally  found  sitting  so  calmly, 
walking,  smoking,  or  reading,  that,  after  peering  around  the 
room  with  jealous  eye,  the  jailer  was  fain  to  depart  with 
shaking  head. 

At  length  the  groove  was  done ;  the  bar  had  room  to  play, 
but  being  short  and  fast  at  top,  the  Major  could  not  bend  it. 
Tying  his  handkerchief  around  the  two  bars,  he  inserted  a 
stick,  and  by  twisting  it  about  had  leverage  enough  to  bring 
the  bars  together.  The  knapsack  was  now  stored  with  over 
thirty  pounds  of  various  kinds  of  provisions,  which  he  had 
managed  to  secrete,  and  all  was  ready  for  the  escape. 

The  30th  of  April  was  a  horrible  day  of  wind  and  rain  and 
hail.  The  night  was  no  better.  The  sleepy  sentries,  suspecting 
naught,  sought  favorable  shelter  from  the  wretched  weather. 
Stobo's  eyes  were  on  guard,  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  place 
deserted  he  knew  his  time  had  come.  Hurriedly  tying  about 
him  his  knapsack  and  applying  the  handkerchief  tourniquet,  a 
passage  was  soon  opened,  and  down  he  jumped  into  the  mud 
below,  and  disappeared  in  the  night.  Far  above  the  town  he 
took  refuge  in  a  farmer's  outhouse  and  anxiously  awaited  the 
chance  for  escape.  His  flight  was  at  once  detected ;  again  six 
thousand  livres  were  offered  for  his  arrest,  and  the  whole  town 
turned  out  for  the  search.  For  two  days  the  major  lay  snug. 
At  midnight  he  stole  stealthily  out,  and  made  straight  for 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  203 

Charles  River,  crossed  it  with  knapsack  on  his  head,  the  water 
coming  up  to  his  chin.  He  had  proceeded  to  a  point  eight 
miles  below  Quebec,  when  just  as  he  had  set  foot  on  the  great 
road,  he  spied  some  gentlemen  riding  towards  him,  who  unfor 
tunately  were  just  as  quick  in  spying  him,  and  made  hard 
after  him.  He  was  caught  and  dragged  back  to  prison. 

His  biographer  thus  quaintly  laments  this  sad  relapse  into 
captivity  :  "  Ill-used  before,  better  could  not  be  hoped  for ;  he 
sickens  at  the  thought  of  his  sad  fate ;  a  dreary  while  for  him 
to  linger  out  in  sad  despondency,  well  barred  and  bolted  in 
with  treble  vigilance.  A  long,  long  summer  and  a  dismal 
winter  were  to  come,  and  these,  for  what  he  knew,  might  be 
repeated,  if  life  so  long  would  stay.  He  could  not  stand  the 
thought,  his  spirits  failed  him,  his  looks  grew  pale  j  corroding, 
pensive  thought  sat  brooding  on  his  forehead,  and  left  it  all  in 
wrinkles  ;  his  long,  black  hair  grows  like  a  badger  gray,  his  body 
to  a  shadow  wastes,  and  ere  the  winter  came  with  her  keen  edge 
of  hardened  cold,  his  health  was  gone  ;  yet  he  must  struggle 
still  with  the  remaining  span  of  life,  for  out  he  must  not  come, 
and  he's  given  up  for  dead. 

"  There  dwelt,  by  lucky  fate,  in  this  strong  capital,  a  lady 
fair,  of  chaste  renown ;  of  manners  sweet,  and  gentle  soul ;  long 
had  her  heart  confessed  for  this  poor  prisoner  a  flame,  best 
suited  with  the  spirit  of  the  times  to  smother,  whose  tender 
heart  felt  double  smart  at  this  his  deep  affliction,  which  threat 
ened  certain  death;  her  kindred  was  confessed,  and  influence, 
too,  well  known  with  Vaudreuil,  and,  strange  speech  of  love, 
thus  she  accosts  the  proud  Canadian  viceroy,"  etc. 

We  need  not  give  this  tender  love  song,  but  the  burden  of 
it  was  an  urgent  appeal  to  change  the  major's  prison,  and  give 
him  exercise  and  good  air,  and  so  a  chance  for  his  life.  The 
prayer  prevailed.  The  wan  and  wasted  prisoner  was  allowed 
to 'walk  the  ramparts.  By  the  care  of  this  kind  lady  and 
her  daughter,  the  major's  health  recovered  by  degrees,  and  he 
became  very  watchful  and  studious  to  disarm  all  suspicion. 


204  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  months  passed  on,  and  Stobo  made  the  acquaintance  of 
some  English  prisoners  brought  in,  among  others  a  Scotchman, 
by  the  name  of  Clarke,  a  ship  carpenter  by  trade,  who,  by  a 
facile  and  timely  change  of  religion,  was  released,  and  was  soon 
employed  at  work  in  the  ship-yard. 

With  this  man  and  another  prisoner,  by  the  name  of  Ste 
venson,  he  concocted  a  new  scheme.  In  order  to  dismiss  his 
kind  lady  attendant,  he  feigned  illness.  Instead  of  going  to 
bed,  however,  he  dressed  in  a  plain,  coarse  workman's  dress, 
incased  his  head  in  a  thick  worsted  wig,  and  quietly  stole  down 
the  stairs,  past  the  rooms  of  the  family  that  had  been  so  kind 
to  him,  out  into  the  garden,  and  leaped  the  wall. 

No  sooner  out  of  town  than  he  quickened  his  pace  and 
made  his  way  to  a  little  windmill  on  the  river,  which  was 
fixed  as  the  rendezvous  for  the  whole  escaping  party.  He 
found  them  all  there,  with  guns,  ammunition,  and  provisions. 
March  was  the  word,  and  Stobo,  as  leader  of  this  gallant 
little  band  of  five,  moved  along  the  river  for  a  couple  of  miles, 
hoping  to  find  some  vessel  by  which  to  escape.  At  length 
they  came  across  a  large  birch  canoe,  which  they  carried  to 
the  water,  and  all  safely  embarked.  With  nimble  hands  they 
plied  the  paddles  and  flew  down  the  strong  current  of  the 
St.  Lawrence.  By  daylight  Quebec  was  left  far  behind,  and 
they  sought  the  protection  of  the  woods,  carrying  their  canoe 
with  them.  As  before,  the  major's  flight  was  early  discovered. 
This  time  the  search  was  fruitless.  The  little  party  lay 
by  quietly  during  each  day,  but  as  night  came  on  they  would 
again  launch  their  bark  upon  the  river. 

On  the  eleventh  night,  as  they  paddled  out  into  the  broad 
St.  Lawrence,  they  encountered  a  violent  storm.  The  canoe 
filled  with  water,  and  they  tried  in  vain  to  make  the  shore, 
but  passed  the  night,  tossed  like  a  cork  upon  the  waters,  and 
only  saved  from  wreck  by  tfnintermitting  bailing.  A  pierc 
ing  cold  now  set  in,  freezing  their  drenched  clothes  to  their 
backs.  By  morning  they  succeeded  in  again  reaching  shore, 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  205 

but  in  a  most  sorry  plight.  Their  frozen  garments  rattled 
like  coats  of  mail,  scarce  one  could  lift  a  limb,  and  a  mother 
and  children,  who  formed  part  of  their  crew,  were  almost  dead. 
Two  of  the  men,  going  out  for  game,  soon  ran  back,  frightened 
by  the  appearance  of  two  armed  savages.  Stobo  reassured 
them,  and  demanded  to  be  led  to  a  sight  of  them,  thinking 
that  if  they  were  scouts  for  a  larger  party,  it  might  be  nec 
essary  to  cut  them  off.  They  soon  came  upon  the  two  unsus 
pecting  savages,  when  Stobo  broke  out  into  a  French  cantata, 
and  saluting  the  savages  in  French,  seized  the  gun  of  one, 
while  Stevenson  grappled  him  and  Clarke  the  other.  Stobo 
then  said  they  were  Frenchmen,  but  in  search  of  English  pris 
oners  who  had  escaped,  and  that  he  must  be  sure  who  they 
were.  They  were  much  alarmed,  and  offered  to  lead  the  way 
to  their  tent  and  to  the  fire,  of  which  they  were  the  guardians, 
so  that  the  whole  country  might  be  alarmed  at  the  advance  up 
the  river  of  any  hostile  British  fleet.  These  fires,  they  said, 
were  placed  at  regular  distances  from  the  mouth  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  to  Quebec,  so  that  news  could  be  speedily  carried  of 
any  hostile  invasion. 

The  wigwam  was  found  full  of  furs,  wild  duck,  and  maple 
sugar,  and  the  major's  party  began  to  rifle  it.  The  Indians  now 
realized  their  mistake,  and  the  one  Stevenson  held  gave  a  back 
ward  spring  and  set  up  a  dreadful  yell.  To  prevent  any  further 
noise,  Stevenson  had  to  shoot  his  man,  and  his  comrade  was 
soon  made  to  share  his  fate.  The  camp  again  reached,  Stobo 
thought  it  was  imprudent  to  leave  the  bodies  unburied,  and  sent 
back  Clarke  and  another  to  inter  them,  which  they  did  by  fast 
ening  a  heavy  stone  to  the  feet  of  each,  and,  having  carefully 
removed  the  scalps,  shoving  them  into  a  deep,  black  pool  of 
water.  Their  poor,  faithful  dog,  which  sat  howling  on  the 
margin  of  the  pool,  was  also  shot. 

They  now  saw  out  in  the  river  a  fleet  of  French  transports, 
with  a  convoy,  ferrying  their  slow  way  up  to  Quebec.  One  ship 
in  the  rear,  judged  by  her  size  to  be  that  of  the  commodore  of 


206  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  fleet,  was  lying  to.  Stobo  concluded  that  she  had  seen 
their  smoke  and  had  sent  her  boat  ashore  to  learn  the  meaning 
of  it.  The  fire,  therefore,  was  put  out,  and  the  canoe  and  bag 
gage  moved  off  into  the  woods,  and  then  a  roundabout  course 
taken  to  the  river  again.  They  now  espied  a  large  four-oared 
bateau  rowing  for  the  shore  and  no  ship  in  view.  "Courage, 
my  lads !"  cried  the  fearless  Stobo.  "  I  hope,  by  your  assist 
ance  and  God's  blessing  on  our  arms,  this  prize  shall  be  our 
own ;  these  men  our  prisoners,  too,  and  they  shall  lessen  your 
fatigue  and  row  for  us ;  observe  but  what  I  order,  and  leave 
the  rest  to  me." 

Stobo's  party  now  lay  closely  concealed  among  some  rocks 
while  the  boat's  crew  pulled  briskly  in.  Scarce  had  the  prow 
bumped  the  beach  when  a  volley  was  sent  in  among  them,  by 
which  two  were  wounded.  The  astonished  Frenchmen  at  once 
cried  out  for  quarter.  The  major  and  his  companions  rushed 
down  from  the  rocks,  and  ordered  out  the  whole  five.  A  rever 
end  old  gentleman,  who  was  steering,  stepped  out  with  a  polite 
bow  of  submission,  and  very  naturally  asked  whose  prisoner  he 
was.  The  major  answered  in  French  that  they  were  British 
subjects,  who  had  been  prisoners  in  Canada,  and  told  them  that 
they  and  their  boat  must  aid  their  escape.  To  this  the  old 
Frenchman  replied,  he  had  been  a  long  distance  down  the  river, 
and  was  returning  with  his  boat  laden  with  wheat;  that  he  was 
the  Chevalier  La  Darante,  and  sole  owner  of  the  Camaraski 
Isles,  and  that,  in  addition  to  all  this,  he  was  old  and  feeble, 
and,  therefore,  should  well  be  excused  from  being  compelled  to 
row  his  enemies. 

To  all  which  the  major  answered  that  if  he  were  King  Louis 
himself,  and  each  of  his  crew  a  peer  of  the  realm,  he  would 
have  to  row  them.  This  ended  the  matter.  As  the  shallop 
was  too  deep-laden  for  expedition,  much  of  the  wheat  was  cast 
out,  and,  all  hands  embarking,  the  boat  left  the  shore,  the  faith 
ful  canoe  dragging  astern.  Thus  doubly  manned,  they  could 
relieve  the  oars  as  well  as  attend  the  sail,  which  was  now  set 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  207 

to  a  favoring  gale,  and  away  they  sped  again  down  the  St. 
Lawrence.  Finding  the  canoe  impeding  the  shallop's  speed,  it 
was  cut  loose  and  turned  adrift. 

To  lie  by  in  the  day  was  now  impossible,  neither  did  the 
major  like  much  to  trust  his  prisoners  ashore.  About  noon 
they  noted  a  lofty  frigate,  which  had  been  convoy  to  the  fleet 
of  transports.  This  sudden  and  dreadful  apparition  gave  no 
small  alarm.  Since  they  could  not  stand  a  fight,  a  run  was 
resolved  upon.  Stobo  took  the  helm,  and  ordered  all  to  pull 
hard  and  to  spread  the  sail,  so  as  to  pass  the  frigate's  stern. 

The  usual  signal  to  heave  to  came  from  the  frigate,  but  the 
party  paid  it  no  attention;  a  second  followed,  which  was  like 
wise  disregarded.  The  third  report  came  accompanied  by  a 
shot  which  whizzed  over  their  heads  uncomfortably  near.  Then 
followed  shot  after  shot,  as  long  as  the  boat  was  in  sight.  The 
boat  flew  along,  continuing  on  its  course  all  night.  The  old 
Chevalier's  remonstrance  as  to  the  hardships  and  indignities  he 
was  compelled  to  undergo  passed  unheeded.  "II  est  fortune 
de  guerre,  monsieur"  was  all  the  reply  vouchsafed  by  the 
major. 

Days  sped  on.  Capes,  islands,  and  mountains  were  passed, 
one  by  one,  but  fortunately  no  sail  was  met.  At  length,  a  boat 
was  found  upon  the  beach,  and  Stobo  told  the  Chevalier  that  he 
would  let  him  go.  All  things  being  ready,  the  two  parties  took 
separate  ways.  Stobo's  boat  continued  along  all  night.  With 
the  morning  they  espied  abreast  of  them  a  ship  at  anchor,  and 
heard  the  signal  to  heave  to.  This  they  declined,  when  a 
swivel,  loaded  with  grape,  opened  fire,  and  after  that  another, 
completely  riddling  their  sail,  but  doing  no  further  damage.  On 
they  pushed,  all  that  day  and  the  next,  but  after  that  they  were 
not  quite  so  fortunate.  Toward  evening  a  dreadful  storm  arose. 
At  the  point  they  now  were,  the  St.  Lawrence  was  very  broad, 
and  the  waves  ran  as  high  as  upon  the  ocean,  while  the  surf 
was  quite  as  loud  and  dangerous.  To  beach  the  boat,  however, 
was  the  only  salvation  for  them,  and  straight  to  shore  they  let 


208  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

her  drive.  Near  the  shore  she  came  upon  a  rock  with  a  dread 
ful  shock,  bursting  open  the  boat's  bows  and  filling  her  with 
water.  The  boat  was  completely  demolished.  Soaking  as  they 
were,  a  wet  and  dreary  night  was  passed. 

Next  morning  the  boat's  wreck  was  hauled  ashore,  and  all, 
under  the  direction  of  Clarke,  the  ship  carpenter,  set  to  work 
to  make  it  sea-worthy  again.  With  wistful  search  they  scanned 
the  shore  for  nails  and  pieces  of  board  to  patch  the  old  hulk. 
Eight  days  were  spent  in  this  tedious  and  disheartening  work, 
and  the  stock  of  provisions  was  getting  fearfully  low.  At  length 
the  boat  was  ready  for  the  first  pitch  and  oakum,  carefully  gath 
ered  from  sticks  found  along  many  miles  of  shore.  Stockings, 
handkerchiefs,  and  other  articles  of  dress  were  used  to  stuif  the 
joints,  and  the  frail  cutter  was  ready  for  launching. 

Just  as  this  interesting  ceremony  was  about  to  be  performed, 
two  sails  were  seen  standing  down  the  river,  and,  finally,  their 
anchors  were  dropped  right  off  the  point  where  the  crazy  vessel 
sat  upon  the  stocks. 

At  this  crisis  Stobo  conceived  a  desperate  scheme.  .  Order 
ing  his  companions  to  lie  still,  he  ran  forward  to  the  shore, 
fired  his  gun  and  waved  his  handkerchief.  The  signal  was 
answered  from  the  ship,  a*  boat  was  lowered,  and  manned  by 
two  men  and  a"  boy,  rowed  within  a  short  distance  of  the  shore. 
One  of  the  men  asked  what  was  wanted.  Stobo  answered,  in 
good  French,  that  he  was  on  the  king's  errand,  and  wanted 
passage  down  the  river,  for  which  he  would  pay  well,  and  that 
if  they  would  come  ashore  he  had  a  bottle  of  choice  rum  which 
he  would  be  glad  to  offer.  This  proved  too  much  for  their 
prudence.  In  three  minutes  they  were  ashore  guzzling  the 
liquor.  When  well  under  its  spell,  it  was  a  quick  task  to  make 
them  prisoners.  Stobo  then  offered  them  life  on  condition  of 
their  giving  true  information  of  the  numbers  on  board  the  ships. 
He  said  he  would  examine  them  separately,  and  if  they  dis 
agreed,  all  would  be  killed.  Their  accounts  agreed. 

It  was  now  night.     The  two  men  were  bound  to  a  tree,  and 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  211 

the  one  woman,  with  drawn  tomahawk,  left  to  guard  them. 
The  boy  was  taken  into  the  boat,  to  pilot  them.  Two  rowed, 
while  two  were  busy  bailing  out  the  leaky  craft.  Swiftly  they 
pulled  alongside  the  dark  hull  of  the  French  sloop.  No  watch 
was  kept.  Stobo  and  his  little  company  climbed  quickly  on 
board.  Some  unavoidable  noise  aroused  the  crew.  The  first 
man  who  came  on  deck  was  shot.  A  short  struggle  over 
powered  the  crew,  who  fought  at  great  disadvantage.  Stobo 
found,  to  his  joy,  that  the  sloop  was  well  armed,  while  the  other 
vessel,  the  schooner,  had  no  cannon.  The  two  vessels  were 
carrying  provisions  for  a  party  of  three  hundred  Indians  at 
Quebec.  Stobo  instantly  ordered  his  men  to  put  the  sloop 
under  way,  and  run  up  the  British  flag. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  sloop  was  laid  right  alongside  the 
schooner,  and  without  a  note  of  warning,  a  heavy  volley  of 
balls  swept  the  deck  of  the  schooner,  killing  every  man  in  sight. 
The  Indians  on  board  sprang  into  the  water.  The  whites  cried 
for  quarter.  Stobo  and  his  men,  having  boarded  the  prize, 
stood,  with  cocked  muskets  at  the  companion  door;  boldly 
ordered  down  the  prisoners,  one  by  one  from  the  sloop ;  removed 
every  thing  valuable  from  the  latter  and  smaller  vessel ;  trans- 
'ferred  the  swivels,  and  then  deliberately  set  fire  to  the  sloop, 
which  lighted  up  the  whole  heavens  with  a  lurid  glare. 

All  this  time  the  poor  woman  stood  trembling  on  the  shore, 
keeping  guard  over  the  first  two  prisoners.  When  the  thunder 
of  the  broadside  was  heard,  the  noise  went  to  her  heart  like 
death's  last  summons.  She  was  sure  the  guns  were  fired  at 
Stobo  and  the  rest,  since  she  knew  they  had  no  guns.  She  was 
just  about  to  surrender  herself  to  her  own  two  prisoners,  and 
to  entreat  them  to  save  her  and  her  children,  when  she  saw  the 
vessel  on  fire.  With  fear  and  wonder,  she  kept  her  own 
thoughts.  Stobo  selected  two  of  his  best  men  and  two  prison 
ers  and  sent  them  ashore  for  the  company  there.  They  brought 
all  safely  on  board.  The  hatches  being  closed  on  no  less  than 
eighteen  prisoners,  which  was  too  many  to  be  safe,  they  were 


212  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ordered  up  by  ones,  and  eight  were  sent  adrift  in  a  small  boat 
with  provisions  plenty,  a  musket  and  shot,  and  fishing-tackle, 
while  the  French  schooner  sailed  away  under  British  colors. 

The  small  boat's  party  made  straight  to  shore,  and  thence 
to  the  nearest  military  post,  and  told  all  that  had  happened. 
The  officer,  having  heard  of  Stobo's  escape  from  Quebec  and 
the  munificent  prize  offered  for  his  capture,  at  once  raised  every 
man  that  could  be  spared,  armed  a  suitable  vessel,  and  made 
chase  after  the  schooner.  Too  late !  by  this  time  Stobo  was 
far  ahead,  and  kept  steadily  on  his  course  for  several  days, 
until  the  Island  of  St.  John's  appeared.  By  scudding  along  on 
one  side  of  the  isle,  they  chanced  to  miss  a  British  fleet  which 
was  passing  toward  the  river  by  the  other  channel.  The  armed 
sloop  in  pursuit  of  them,  however,  had  no  such  good  luck,  for 
she  was  captured  by  the  British. 

At  length  our  adventurous  party  sighted  Cape  Breton,  away 
across  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  and  soon  gained  the  British 
fortified  port  of  Louisburg,  having  been  full  thirty-eight  days 
making  the  voyage  from  Quebec.  The  news  of  this  wonderful 
and  gallant  escape  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  the  whole 
place  was  in  a  ferment  of  excitement.  Stobo  was  for  a  time 
the  observed  of  all  observers.  The  schooner,  with  its  valuable 
furs  and  other  goods,  was  sold,  and  Stobo  gave  all  his  own 
share  of  the  proceeds  to  the  poor  woman  and  her  children  who 
had  so  long  been  his  patient  companions. 

Within  two  days  Stobo  set  out  to  join  Wolfe  in  his  great 
expedition  against  Quebec.  He  is  said  to  have  been  the  man 
who  pointed  out  the  path  up  the  steep  cliffs  by  which  the  final 
assault  was  made.  On  the  fall  of  the  great  citadel  of  Canada, 
Stobo  was  ordered  to  carry  the  dispatches  to  General  Amherst, 
at  Boston.  On  the  way,  the  vessel  he  sailed  in  was  attacked 
and  captured  by  a  French  privateer.  Stobo  managed  to  pass  as  a 
common  sailor,  and  was  set  adrift  in  a  boat  with  one  day's  pro 
visions.  After  four  days  of  anxious  toil  at  the  oars,  he  reached 
Halifax,  and  thence  made  his  way  on  foot  to  Boston. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  213 

On  a  November  day  in  the  year  1759,  Stobo  appeared 
among  his  old  friends  in  Virginia.  He  was  hailed  as  one  risen 
from  the  dead.  The  Virginia  Assembly  presented  him  with  one 
thousand  pounds,  and  passed  a  resolution  in  praise  of  his  hero 
ism.  He  was  also  granted  a  year's  leave  of  absence  from  his 
regiment  on  full  pay.  He  went  to  England,  and  was  honored 
by  an  interview  with  Pitt  himself.  At  this  point  history  loses 
sight  of  him.  This  shining  portion  of  his  career  is  known  to 
all  the  world,  but  the  fate  of  the  man  who  accomplished  such 
remarkable  feats  is  unknown. 

COLONEL  JAMES  SMITH 

was,  in  May,  1755,  a  boy  of  eighteen  years. .  He  was  one  of 
the  many  settlers  who  went  out  to  clear  a  path  for  the  passage 
of  Braddock's  army  through  the  wilderness.  One  morning  he 
was  ordered  to  go  several  miles  to  the  rear  to  hurry  up  the  pro 
vision  wagons.  On  his  return  trip  he  was  ambushed  and  cap 
tured  by  Indians.  With  a  savage  grasping  either  arm,  he  was 
forced  to  run  over  broken  and  rocky  ground  for  fifteen  miles. 
After  a  halt  for  the  night,  his  captors  pushed  on  to  Fort  du 
Quesne.  On  the  journey,  Smith  received  his  share  of  moldy 
biscuit,  roast  venison,  and  wild  turkey,  faring  comfortably,  till 
he  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the  fort,  where  he  was  forced 
to  run  the  gauntlet.  In  this  little  amusement  the  poor  fellow 
was  badly  hurt,  but,  through  the  ministration  of  a  French  physi 
cian  at  the  fort,  he  recovered. 

After  the  terrible  rout  of  Braddock's  army  the  painted  allies 
of  the  French  began  to  withdraw  from  the  fort,  to  return  to 
their  own  people.  Smith's  captors  took  him  with  them  to  a 
town  on  the  Muskingum  river.  He  describes  the  novel  recep 
tion  given  him. 

"  On  my  arrival  at  the  aforesaid  town,  a  number  of  Indians 
collected  about  me,  and  one  of  them  began  to  pull  the  hair  out 
of  my  head.  He  had  some  ashes  on  a  piece  of  bark,  in  which 
he  frequently  dipped  his  fingers,  in  order  to  take  the  firmer 


214  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

hold ;  and  so  he  went  on  as  if  he  had  been  plucking  a  turkey, 
until  he  had  all  the  hair  out  of  my  head,  except  a  small  spot 
three  or  four  inches  square  on  my  crown ;  this  they  cut  off  with 
a  pair  of  scissors,  excepting  three  locks,  which  they  dressed  up 
with  ornaments.  After  this  they  bored  my  nose  and  ears,  and 
fixed  me  off  with  ear-rings  and  nose  jewels ;  then  they  ordered 
me  to  strip  off  my  clothes  and  put  on  a  breech-clout,  which  I  did. 
I  made  no  doubt  but  they  were  about  putting  me  to  death. 

"  The  old  chief,  holding  me  by  the  hand,  made  a  long  speech, 
very  loud,  and  when  he  had  done  he  handed  me  to  three  young 
squaws,  who  led  me  by  the  hand  down  the  bank,  into  the  river, 
until  the  water  was  up  to  our  middle.  The  squaws  then  made 
signs  to  me  to  plunge  myself  into  the  water,  but  I  did  not  un 
derstand  them — I  thought  that  the  result  of  the  council  was  that 
I  should  be  drowned,  and  that  these  young  ladies  were  to  be  the 
executioners.  They  all  three  laid  violent  hold  of  me,  and  I  for 
some  time  opposed  them  with  all  my  might,  which  occasioned 
loud  laughter  by  the  multitude  that  were  on  the  bank  of  the 
river.  At  length  one  of  the  squaws  made  out  to  speak  a  little 
English  (for  I  believe  they  began  to  be  afraid  of  me),  and  said 
'  no  hurt  you  /  on  this  I  gave  myself  up  to  their  ladyships,  who 
were  as  good  as  their  word ;  for,  though  they  plunged  me  under 
water,  and  washed  and  rubbed  me  severely,  yet  I  could  not  say 
they  hurt  me  much. 

"These  young  women  then  led  me  up  to  the  council  house, 
where  some  of  the  tribe  were  ready  with  new  clothes  for  me. 
They  gave  me  a  new  ruffled  shirt,  which  I  put  on ;  also  a  pair 
of  leggins  done  off  with  ribbons  and  beads;  likewise  a  pair  of 
moccasins,  and  garters  dressed  with  beads,  porcupine  quills,  and 
red  hair;  also  a  tinsel  laced  cappo.  They  again  painted  my  head 
and  face  with  various  colors,  and  tied  a  bunch  of  red  feathers  to 
one  of  those  locks  they  had  left  on  the  crown  of  my  head,  which 
stood  up  five  or  six  inches.  They  seated  me  on  a  bearskin, 
and  gave  me  a  pipe,  tomahawk,  and  polecat-skin  pouch,  which 
had  been  skinned  pocket  fashion,  and  contained  tobacco,  spunk, 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  215 

flint,  and  steel.  When  I  was  thus  seated,  the  Indians  came  in, 
dressed  and  painted  in  their  grandest  manner.  As  they  came 
in  they  took  their  seats,  and  for  a  considerable  time  there  was 
a  profound  silence — every  one  was  smoking ;  but  not  a  word 
was  spoken  among  them." 

At  length  an  old  chief  made  a  lengthy  harangue,  informing 
Smith  that  by  this  ceremony  he  had  been  adopted  into  the 
tribe.  "  From  that  day  to  this,"  said  he,  after  a  captivity  of 
many  years,  "I  never  knew  them  to  make  any  distinction  be 
tween  me  and  themselves,  in  any  respect  whatever." 

That  evening  a  band  of  braves,  who  were  about  to  go  on 
the  war-path,  collected  together  for  the  war-dance.  An  old  In 
dian  began  to  sing  and  beat  time  on  a  rude  drum.  "  Each 
warrior  had  a  tomahawk,  spear,  or  war-mallet  in  his  hand,  and 
they  all  moved  regularly  toward  the  east,  or  the  way  they  in 
tended  to  go  to  war.  At  length  they  all  stretched  their  toma 
hawks  toward  the  Potomac,  and  giving  a  hideous  shout  or  yell, 
they  wheeled  quick  about,  and  danced  in  the  same  manner  back. 

"Each  warrior  then  sung  a  war-song,  and,  striking  a  post 
with  his  tomahawk,  in  a  loud  voice  told  what  warlike  exploits 
he  had  done,  and  what  he  now  intended  to  do,  which  were  an 
swered  by  the  other  warriors  with  loud  shouts  of  applause. 
Some  who  had  not  before  intended  to  go  to  war,  at  this  time 
were  so  animated  by  this  performance  that  they  took  up  the 
tomahawk,  and  sung  the  war-song,  .which  was  answered  with 
shouts  of  joy,  as  they  were  then  initiated  into  the  present 
marching  company. 

"The  next  morning  this  company  all  collected  at  one  place, 
with  their  heads  and  faces  painted  with  various  colors,  and  packs 
upon  their  backs.  They  marched  off,  all  silent  except  the  com 
mander,  who,  in  the  front,  sung  the  traveling  song.  Just  as  the 
rear  passed  the  end  of  the  town,  they  began  to  fire  in  their  slow 
manner,  from  the  front  to  the  rear,  which  was  accompanied  with 
shouts  and  yells  from  all  quarters." 

Smith's  first  hunting  expedition  resulted  disastrously  to  his 


216  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

reputation.  He  was  out  with  a  party  on  a  six  weeks'  hunt. 
One  day  his  Indian  friends  gave  him  a  gun,  and  told  him  to 
take  the  dogs,  go  down  the  creek,  and  try  to  kill  some  turkeys. 
He  was  further  cautioned  not  to  get  lost.  When  some  distance 
from  camp,  he  found  some  buffalo  tracks.  Instantly  all  thought 
of  such  small  game  as  turkeys  vanished.  The  young  hunter 
became  fired  with  ambition  to  kill  a  buffalo.  All  day  he  followed 
the  trail.  At  nightfall  he  found  himself  without  turkeys,  and 
much  less  buffalo.  Worse  than  this,  he  was  completely  lost. 
He  fired  his  gun,  and  halloed,  but  met  no  response.  The  next 
morning  the  Indians  hunted  him  up  by  his  tracks.  "On  my 
return  to  camp,"  says  he,  "  they  took  my  gun  from  me,  and  for 
this  rash  step,  I  was  reduced  to  bow  and  arrows  for  near  two 
years." 

One  day  he  displeased  the  Indians  in  some  way,  and  the 
next  morning  found  they  erected  a  large  frame-work,  which  he 
concluded  was  a  gallows,  on  which  he  was  to  be  hung.  The 
structure  proved,  however,  to  have  no  more  dangerous  purpose 
than  to  serve  as  a  drying  rack  for  skins. 

His  first  winter  was  spent  with  his  adopted  brother,  Tonti- 
leaugo,  and  a  small  company  of  Indians,  in  a  cabin,  which  they 
erected  near  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie.  Though  warm  and  com 
fortable,  they  were  in  great  distress  for  want  of  food.  There 
were  only  two  men  in  the  camp  besides  Smith.  These  had  to 
provide  food  for  several  families  of  squaws  and  children.  The 
crust  on  the  snow  would  break  through  at  every  step,  alarming 
the  deer  at  the  hunter's  approach,  and  reducing  them  to  the 
single  chance  of  hunting  bear  holes.  This  became  their  daily 
occupation.  Sometimes  they  drove  the  bear  out  of  the  hollow 
trees,  with  smoke  and  fire-brands ;  at  other  times,  Smith  and 
Tontileaugo  would  chop  the  tree  down  with  their  tomahawks. 
On  these  hunts  they  would  build  a  little  bark  shelter  for  them 
selves,  where,  as  Smith  says,  "  we  were  quite  snug."  In  the 
month  of  February,  the  squaws  went  to  work  to  make  maple 
sugar,  collecting  the  water  in  bark  vessels,  holding  a  hundred 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  217 

gallons,  and  boiling  it  in  two  large  brass  kettles.  Towards 
spring,  they  also  made  vessels  of  dried  deer  skin,  in  which  they 
stored  the  oil  rendered  out  by  frying  bear's  fat. 

While  out  on  a  hunt  with  Tontileaugo,  Smith  one  day 
renr  ined  in  the  little  camp,  while  his  companion  went  out  after 
gan  e.  A  Wyandotte  came  to  the  camp,  and  begged  for  some 
food.  Smith  gave  him  a  shoulder  of  roasted  venison,  for  which 
he  was  very  thankful.  That  night  Smith  related  the  circum 
stance  to  Tontileaugo,  who  said  that  was  right,  but  that  of 
course  Smith  gave  him  sugar  and  bear's  oil  to  eat  his  venison 
with.  Smith  said  he  had  not.  This  answer  angered  the  Indian 
greatly.  "You  have  behaved  just  like  a  Dutchman.  Do  you 
not  know  that  when  strangers  come  to  our  camp,  we  ought 
always  to  give  them  the  best  we  have?" 

The  next  winter  Smith  was  invited  by  a  visiting  chief,  named 
Tecaughretanego,  to  go  with  him  to  another  part  of  the  country. 
Smith  hesitated  to  leave  his  old  friends,  but  Tontileaugo  said 
that  his  new  friend  was  a  greater  man  than  he  was,  and  rather 
advised  him  to  go.  The  region  to  which  Smith  went  was  north 
western  Ohio  and  eastern  Michigan.  Game  was  tolerably 
abundant,  and  the  Indians  had  many  apples  stored  up.  Here 
too,  Smith  saw  for  the  first  time,  cranberries,  which  grew  in 
swamps,  and  were  gathered  by  the  Indians  when  the  swamp 
was  frozen.  "These  berries,"  Smith  remarks,  "were  about  as 
large  as  rifle  bullets,  of  a  bright  red  color,  an  agreeable  sour, 
though  rather  too  sour  of  themselves,  but  when  mixed  with 
sugar  had  a  very  agreeable  taste."  Smith  met  with  a  thrilling 
adventure  this  winter,  which  he  relates  as  follows  : 

"  I  went  out  with  Tecaughretanego  and  some  others  a  beaver 
hunting;  but  we  did  not  succeed,  and  on  our  return  we  saw 
where  several  raccoons  had  passed  while  the  snow  was  soft, 
though  there  was  now  a  crust  upon  it.  We  all  made  a  halt, 
looking  at  the  raccoon  tracks.  As  they  saw  a  tree  with  a  hole 
in  it,  they  told  me  to  go  and  see  if  they  had  gone  in  thereat; 
and  if  they  had  to  halloo,  and  they  would  come  and  take  them 

12 


218  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

out.  When  I  went  to  that  tree,  I  found  they  had  gone  past; 
but  I  saw  another  the  way  they  had  gone,  and  proceeded  to 
examine  that,  and  found  they  had  gone  up  it.  I  then  began  to 
halloo,  but  could  have  no  answer. 

"As  it  began  to  snow  and  blow  most  violently,  I  returned, 
and  proceeded  after  my  company,  and  for  some  time  could  see 
their  tracks  ;  but  the  old  snow  being  only  about  three  inches  deep, 
and  a  crust  upon  it,  the  present  driving  snow  soon  filled  up  the 
tracks.  As  I  had  only  a  bow,  arrows,  and  tomahawk  with  me, 
and  no  way  to  strike  fire,  I  appeared  to  be  in  a  dismal  situa 
tion,  and  as  the  air  was  dark  with  snow,  I  had  little  more  pros 
pect  of  steering  my  course  than  I  would  in  the  night.  At 
length  I  came  to  a  hollow  tree,  with  a  hole  at  one  side  that  I 
could  go  in  at.  I  went  in,  and  found  that  it  was  a  dry  place, 
and  the  hollow  about  three  feet  diameter,  and  high  enough  for 
me  to  stand  in.  I  found  that  there  was  also  a  considerable 
quantity  of  soft,  dry,  rotten  wood  around  this  hollow.  I  there 
fore  concluded  that  I  would  lodge  here,  and  that  I  would  go  to 
work  and  stop  up  the  door  of  my  house.  I  stripped  off  my 
blanket  (which  was  all  the  clothes  that  I  had,  excepting  breech- 
clout,  leggins,  and  moccasins),  and  with  my  tomahawk  fell  to 
chopping  at  the  top  of  a  fallen  tree  that  lay  near,  and  carried 
wood  and  set  it  up  on  end  against  the  door,  until  I  had  it  three 
or  four  feet  thick,  all  around,  excepting  a  hole  I  had  left  to 
creep  in  at.  I  had  a  block  prepared  that  I  could  haul  after  me, 
to  stop  this  hole ;  and  before  I  went  in  I  put  in  a  number  of 
small  sticks,  that  I  might  more  effectually  stop  it  on  the  inside. 

"When  I  went  in  I  took  my  tomahawk  and  cut  down  all 
the  dry,  rotten  wood  I  could  get,  and  beat  it  small.  With  it  I 
made  a  bed  like  a  goose-nest  or  hog-bed,  and  with  the  small 
sticks  stopped  every  hole,  until  my  house  was  almost  dark.  I 
stripped  off  my  moccasins,  and  danced  in  the  center  of  my  bed 
for  about  half  an  hour,  in  order  to  warm  myself.  In  this  time 
my  feet  and  whole  body  were  agreeably  warmed.  The  snow, 
in  the  meanwhile,  had  stopped  all  the  holes,  so  that  my  house 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  219 

was  as  dark  as  a  dungeon;  though  I  knew  that  it  could  not  be 
dark  out  of  doors.  I  then  coiled  myself  up  in  my  blanket,  lay 
down  in  my  little  round  bed,  and  had  a  tolerable  night's  lodging. 
"  When  I  awoke,  all  was  dark — not  the  least  glimmering  of 
light  was  to  be  seen.  Immediately  I  recollected  that  I  was  not 
to  expect  light  in  this  new  habitation,  as  there  was  neither  door 
or  window  in  it.  As  I  could  hear  the  storm  raging,  and  did  not 
suffer  much  cold  as  I  was  then  situated,  I  concluded  I  would 
stay  in  my  nest  until  I  was  certain  it  was  day.  When  I  had 
reason  to  conclude  that  it  surely  was  day,  I  arose  and  put  on 
my  moccasins,  which  I  had  lain  under  my  head  to  keep  from 
freezing.  I  then  endeavored  to  find  the  door,  and  had  to  do  all 
by  the  sense  of  feeling,  which  took  me  some  time.  At  length 
I  found  the  block,  but  it  being  heavy,  and  a  large  quantity  of 
snow  having  fallen  on  it,  at  the  first  attempt  I  did  not  move  it. 
I  then  felt  terrified.  Among  all  the  hardships  I  had  sus 
tained,  I  never  knew  before  what  it  was  to  be  thus  deprived 
of  light.  This,  with  the  other  circumstances  attending  it, 
appeared  grievous. 

"  I  went  straightway  to  bed  again,  wrapped  my  blanket  round 
me,  and  lay  and  mused  awhile,  and  then  prayed  to  Almighty 
God  to  direct  and  protect  me,  as  he  had  done  heretofore.  I 
once  again  attempted  to  move  away  the  block,  which  proved 
successful;  it  moved  about  nine  inches.  With  this  a  consider 
able  quantity  of  snow  fell  in  from  above,  and  I  immediately 
received  light;  so  that  I  found  a  very  great  snow  had  fallen, 
above  what  I  had  ever  seen  in  one  night.  I  then  knew  why  I 
*  could  not  easily  move  the  block,  and  I  was  so  rejoiced  at  obtain 
ing  the  light,  that  all  my  other  difficulties  seemed  to  vanish. 
I  then  turned  into  my  cell,  and  returned  God  thanks  for  having 
once  more  received  the  light  of  heaven.  At  length  I  belted  my 
blanket  about  me,  got  my  tomahawk,  bow  and  arrows,  and  went 
out  of  my  den. 

"  I  was  now  in  tolerable  high  spirits,  though  the  snow  had 
fallen  above  three  feet  deep,  in  addition  to  what  was  on  the 


220  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ground  before ;  and  the  only  imperfect  guide  I  had,  in  order  to 
steer  my  course  to  camp,  was  the  trees,  as  the  moss  generally 
grows  on  the  north-west  side  of  them,  if  they  are  straight.  I 
proceeded  on,  wading  through  the  snow,  and  about  twelve  o'clock 
(as  it  appeared  afterwards,  from  that  time  to  night,  for  it  was 
yet  cloudy),  I  came  upon  the  creek  that  our  camp  was  on,  about 
half  a  mile  below  the  camp ;  and  when  I  came  in  sight  of  the 
camp,  I  found  that  there  was  great  joy,  by  the  shouts  and  yell 
ing  of  the  boys." 

This  and  another  somewhat  similar  adventure  so  improved 
Smith's  reputation  that,  soon  after,  the  Indians  went  to  Detroit 
and  bought  him  a  fine  new  gun.  At  the  time  of  this  purchase, 
the  Indians,  having  a  large  surplus  of  beaver  skins,  resolved  to 
expend  them  for  brandy.  Those  who  were  to  get  drunk  invited 
Smith  to  join  in  the  revel,  but  he  preferred  to  remain  with  the 
sober  party,  whose  duty  it  was  to  prevent  the  debauchees  from 
hurting  themselves  and  one  another.  This  dangerous  task  met 
with  only  partial  success  during  the  several  days  of  the  drunk, 
which  lasted  till  the  beaver  skins  were  exhausted. 

"  When  the  brandy  was  gone,  and  the  drinking  club  sober, 
they  appeared  much  dejected.  Some  of  them  were  crippled, 
others  badly  wounded,  a  number  of  their  fine  new  shirts  tore, 
and  several  blankets  were  burned.  A  number  of  squaws  were 
also  in  this  club,  and  neglected  their  corn-planting.  We  could 
now  hear  the  effects  of  the  brandy  in  the  Ottawa  town.  They 
were  singing  and  yelling  in  the  most  hideous  manner,  both  night 
and  day ;  but  their  frolic  ended  worse  than  ours  :  five  Ottawas 
were  killed  and  a  great  many  wounded." 

One  night  a  squaw  reported  that  the  dreaded  Mohawks  were 
in  the  vicinity.  Every  one  at  once  took  to  the  bushes,  except 
Manetohcoa,  the  conjurer,  who  placed  himself  before  the  fire,  to 
exercise  his  magic.  Among  his  implements  were  dyed  feathers, 
and  the  shoulder-blade  of  a  wild-cat.  After  many  incantations 
and  performances,  he  called  loudly  for  the  rest  to  come  back. 
Breathless  with  awe,  his  audience  listened  while  he  announced 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  221 

that,  instead  of  a  number  of  Mohawks  appearing  on  the  flat- 
bone,  the  pictures  of  two  wolves  had  come,  and  that  no  enemy- 
was  near.  Upon  this  assurance  the  whole  camp  went  to  sleep  at 
once.  In  the  morning  his  magic  was  verified  by  the  presence 
of  wolf- tracks,  and  the  entire  absence  of  moccasin  prints. 

Smith  writes  :  "  If  there  is  any  such  thing  as  a  wizard,  I 
think  Manetohcoa  was  as  likely  to  be  one  as  any  man,  as  he 
was  a  professed  worshiper  of  the  devil.  But  let  him  be  a  con 
jurer  or  not,  I  am  persuaded  that  the  Indians  believed  what  he 
told  them  upon  this  occasion,  as  well  as  if  it  had  come  from 
an  infallible  oracle,  or  they  would  not,  after  such  an  alarm  as 
this,  go  all  to  sleep  in  an  unconcerned  manner." 

Tecaughretanego  was  an  Indian  of  unusual  intelligence.  He 
had  lofty  opinions  and  original  ideas  on  every  subject  with 
which  he  had  opportunity  to  become  acquainted.  Smith  said 
that  he  was.  the  best  reasoner  he  ever  saw,  and,  as  compared 
with  other  Indians,  was  as  Socrates  among  the  common  Athen 
ians.  But  the  old  chief  was  no  longer  influential  or  active.  He 
was  sixty  years  of  age,  and  was  so  disabled  by  rheumatism 
as  to  be  confined  to  his  wigwam.  It  happened  that  one  win 
ter  Smith  found  himself  encamped  alone  with  the  old  chief  and 
his  young  son,  Murganey,  at  a  great  distance  from  any  other 
Indians.  Here  the  old  Indian  was  attacked  by  rheumatism,  and 
so  lamed  and  disabled  that  a  removal  was  out  of  the  question. 
On  Smith's  exertions  the  three  depended  to  be  kept  from  starv 
ation.  The  story  of  the  time  is  preserved  in  Smith's  narrative. 

"  Though  Tecaughretanego  endured  much  pain  and  misery, 
yet  he  bore  it  all  with  wonderful  patience,  and  would  often 
endeavor  to  entertain  me  with  cheerful  conversation.  Some 
times  he  would  applaud  me  for  my  diligence,  skill,  and  activity; 
and  at  other  times  he  would  take  great  care  in  giving  me 
instructions  concerning  the  hunting  and  trapping  business.  He 
would  also  tell  me  that  if  I  failed  of  success  we  would  suffer 
very  much,  as  we  were  about  forty  miles  from  any  one  living, 
that  we  knew  of;  yet  he  would  not  intimate  that  he  appre- 


222  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

hended  we  were  in  any  danger,  but  still  supposed  that  I  was 
fully  adequate  to  the  task. 

"  From  Christmas  until  some  time  in  February  we  had  always 
plenty  of  bear  meat  and  venison.  During  this  time  I  killed 
much  more  than  we  could  use,  but  having  no  horses  to  carry  in 
what  I  killed,  I  left  part  of  it  in  the  woods.  In  February,  there 
came  a  snow,  with  a  crust  which  made  a  great  noise  when  walk 
ing  on  it,  and  frightened  away  the  deer;  and  as  bear  and  beaver 
were  scarce  here,  we  got  entirely  out  of  provision.  After  I  had 
hunted  two  days  without  eating  any  thing,  and  had  very  short 
allowance  for  some  days  before,  I  returned  late  in  the  evening, 
faint  and  weary. 

"When  I  came  into  our  hut.  Tecaughretanego  asked  what 
success.  I  told  him  not  any.  He  asked  me  if  I  was  not  very 
hungry.  I  replied  that  the  keen  appetite  seemed  to  be  in  some 
measure  removed,  but  I  was  both  faint  and  weary.  He  com 
manded  Nunganey,  his  little  son,  to  bring  me  something  to  eat, 
and  he  brought  me  a  kettle  with  some  bones  and  broth.  After 
eating  a  few  mouthfuls,  my  appetite  violently  returned,  and  I 
thought  the  victuals  had  a  most  agreeable  relish,  though  it  was 
only  fox  and  wild-cat  bones  which  lay  about  Jie  camp,  which 
the  ravens  and  turkey-buzzards  had  picked ;  these  Nunganey 
had  collected  and  boiled,  until  the  sinews  that  remained  on  the 
bones  would  strip  off. 

"  I  speedily  finished  my  allowance,  such  as  it  was,  and  when 
I  had  ended  my  sweet  repast,  Tecaughretanego  asked  me  how  I 
felt.  I  told  him  that  I  was  much  refreshed.  He  then  handed 
me  his  pipe  and  pouch,  and  told  me  to  take  a  smoke.  I  did  so. 
He  then  said  he  had  something  of  importance  to  tell  me,  if  I 
was  now  composed  and  ready  to  hear  it.  I  told  him  that  I  was 
ready  to  hear  him.  He  said  the  reason  why  he  deferred  his 
speech  till  now  was  because  few  men  are  in  a  right  humor  to 
hear  good  talk  when  they  are  extremely  hungry,  as  they  are 
then  generally  fretful  and  discomposed,  'but  as  you  appear  now 
to  enjoy  calmness  and  serenity  of  mind,  I  will  now  communicate 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  223 

to  you  the  thoughts  of  my  heart,  and  those  things  that  I  know 
to  be  true. 

" '  Brother — As  you  have  lived  with  the  white  people,  you 
have  not  had  the  same  advantage  of  knowing  that  the  great 
Being  above  feeds  his  people,  and  gives  them  their  meat  in  due 
season,  as  we  Indians  have,  who  are  frequently  out  of  provisions, 
and  yet  are  wonderfully  supplied,  and  that  so  frequently,  that 
it  is  evidently  the  hand  of  the  great  Owaneeyo  *  that  doth  this. 
Whereas  the  white  people  have  commonly  large  stocks  of  tame 
cattle  that  they  can  kill  when  they  please,  and  also  their  barns 
and  cribs  filled  with  grain,  and  therefore  have  not  the  same 
opportunity  of  seeing  and  knowing  that  they  are  supported  by 
the  Ruler  of  heaven  and  earth.  I  know  that  you  are  now 
afraid  that  we  will  all  perish  with  hunger,  but  you  have  no  just 
reason  to  fear  this.  I  have  been  young,  but  am  now  old;  I 
have  been  frequently  under  the  like  circumstances  that  we  now 
are,  and  that  some  time  or  other  in  almost  every  year  of  my 
life;  yet  I  have  hitherto  been  supported,  and  my  wants  sup 
plied  in  time  of  need.  Owaneeyo  sometimes  suffers  us  to  be 
in  want,  in  order  to  teach  us  our  dependence  upon  him,  and  to 
let  us  know  that  we  are  to  love  and  serve  him ;  and  likewise 
to  know  the  worth  of  the  favors  that  we  receive,  and  to  make 
us  more  thankful.  Be  assured  that  you  will  be  supplied  with 
food,  and  that  just  in  the  right  time ;  but  you  must  continue 
diligent  in  the  use  of  means.  Go  to  sleep,  and  rise  early  in  the 
morning,  and  go  a  hunting;  be  strong,  and  exert  yourself  like 
a  man,  and  the  Great  Spirit  will  direct  your  way.' 

"The  next  morning  I  went  out,  and  steered  about  an  east 
course.  I  proceeded  on  slowly  for  about  five  miles,  and  saw  deer 
frequently;  but  as  the  crust  on  the  snow  made  a  great  noise, 
they  were  always  running  before  I  spied  them,  so  that  I  could 
not  get  a  shot.  A  violent  appetite  returned,  and  I  became  in 
tolerably  hungry.  It  was  now  that  I  concluded  I  would  run 


*  This  is  the  name  of  God,  in  their  tongue,  and  signifies  the  owner  and  ruler 
of  all  things. 


224  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

off  to  Pennsylvania,  my  native  country.  As  the  snow  was  on 
the  ground,  and  Indian  hunters  almost  the  whole  of  the  way 
before  nre?  I  had  but  a  poor  prospect  of  making  my  escape,  but 
my  case  appeared  desperate.  If  I  stayed  here,  I  thought  I  would 
perish  with  hunger,  and  if  I  met  with  Indians,  they  could  but 
kill  me. 

"I  then  proceeded  on  as  fast  as  I  could  walk,  and  when  I 
got  about  ten  or  twelve  miles  from  our  hut,  I  came  upon  fresh 
buffalo  tracks ;  I  pursued  after,  and  «in  a  short  time  came  in 
sight  of  them  as  they  were  passing  through  a  small  glade.  I 
ran  with  all  my  might  and  headed  them,  where  I  lay  in  ambush, 
and  killed  a  very  large  cow.  I  immediately  kindled  a  fire,  and 
began  to  roast  the  meat,  but  could  not  wait  till  it  was  done;  I 
ate  it  almost  raw.  When  hunger  was  abated,  I  began  to  be 
tenderly  concerned  for  my  old  Indian  brother  and  the  little  boy 
I  had  left  in  a  perishing  condition.  I  made  haste  and  packed 
up  what  meat  I  could  carry,  secured  what  I  left  from  the  wolves, 
and  returned  homeward. 

"I  scarcely  thought  on  the  old  man's  speech,  while  I  was 
almost  distracted  with  hunger,  but  on  my  return  was  much 
affected  with  it,  reflected  on  myself  for  my  hard-heartedness 
and  ingratitude  in  attempting  to  run  off  and  leave  the  venerable 
old  man  and  little  boy  to  perish  with  hunger.  I  also  considered 
how  remarkably  the  old  man's  speech  had  been  verified  in  our 
providentially  obtaining  a  supply.  I  thought  also  of  that  part 
of  his  speech  which  treated  of  the  fractious  dispositions  of 
hungry  people,  which  was  the  only  excuse  I  had  for  my  base 
inhumanity  in  attempting  to  leave  them  in  the  most  deplorable 
situation. 

"As  it  was  moonlight,  I  got  home  to  our  hut,  and  found  the 
old  man  in  his  usual  good  humor.  He  thanked  me  for  my 
exertion,  and  bid  me  sit  down,  as  I  must  certainly  be  fatigued, 
and  he  commanded  Nunganey  to  make  haste  and  cook.  I  told 
him  I  would  cook  for  him,  and  let  the  boy  lay  some  meat  on 
the  coals  for  himself;  which  he  did,  but  ate  it  almost  raw,  as  I 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  225 

had  done.  I  immediately  hung  on  the  kettle,  with  some  water, 
and  cut  the  beef  in  thin  slices,  and  put  them  in.  When  it  had 
boiled  awhile,  I  proposed  taking  it  off  the  fire,  but  the  old  man 
replied,  'let  it  be  done  enough."  This  he  said  in  as  patient  and 
unconcerned  a  manner  as  if  he  had  not  wanted  one  single  meal. 
He  commanded  Nunganey  to  eat  no  more  beef  at  that  time, 
lest  he  might  hurt  himself,  but  told  him  to  sit  down,  and  after 
some  time  he  might  sup  some  broth;  this  command  he  reluc 
tantly  obeyed. 

"When  we  were  all  refreshed,  Tecaughretanego  delivered  a 
speech  upon  the  necessity  and  pleasure  of  receiving  the  neces 
sary  supports  of  life  with  thankfulness,  knowing  that  Owaneeyo 
is  the  great  giver." 

It  was  April  before  the  old  chief  could  be  removed.  The 
river  being  low,  he  said  that  he  would  pray  for  rain.  "  Tecau 
ghretanego  made  himself  a  sweat-house,  which  he  did  by  stick 
ing  a  number  of  hoops  in  the  ground,  each  hoop  forming  a  semi 
circle  ;  this  he  covered  all  round  with  blankets  and  skins.  He 
then  prepared  hot  stones,  which  he  rolled  into  this  hut,  and 
then  went  into  it  himself  with  a  little  kettle  of  water  in  his 
hand,  mixed  with  a  variety  of  herbs,  which  he  had  formerly 
cured,  and  had  now  with  him  in  his  pack ;  they  afforded  an 
odoriferous  perfume.  When  he  was  in,  he  told  me  to  pull  down 
the  blankets  behind  him,  and  cover  all  up  close,  which  I  did, 
and  then  he  began  to  pour  water  upon  the  hot  stones,  and  to 
sing  aloud.  He  continued  in  this  vehement  hot  place  about 
fifteen  minutes.  All  this  he  did  in  order  to  purify  himself 
before  he  would  address  the  Supreme  Being." 

When  he  came  out  of  his  sweat-house,  he  began  to  burn 
tobacco  and  pray  in  the  following  manner  :  "  i  0  Great  Being ! 
I  thank  thee  that  I  have  obtained  the  use  of  my  legs  again; 
that  I  am  now  able  to  walk  about  and  kill  turkeys,  etc.,  with 
out  feeling  exquisite  pain  and  misery.  I  know  that  thou  art  a 
hearer  and  a  helper,  and  therefore  I  will  call  upon  thee.  Grant 
that  my  knees  and  ankles  may  be  right  well,  and  that  I  may 


226  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

be  able,  not  only  to  walk,  but  to  run  and  to  jump  logs,  as  I  did 
last  fall.  Grant  that  on  this  voyage  we  may  frequently  kill 
bears,  as  they  may  be  crossing  the  Scioto  and  Sandusky. 
Grant  that  we  may  kill  plenty  of  turkeys  along  the  banks,  to 
stew  with  our  fat  bear  meat.  Grant  that  rain  may  come  to 
raise  the  Ollentangy  about  two  or  three  feet,  that  we  may  cross 
in  safety  down  to  Scioto,  without  danger  of  our  canoe  being 
wrecked  on  the  rocks.  And  now,  0  Great  Being !  thou  know- 
est  how  matters  stand ;  thou  knowest  that  I  am  a  great  lover 
of  tobacco,  and  though  I  know  not  when  I  may  get  any  more, 
I  now  make  a  present  of  the  last  I  have  unto  thee,  as  a  free 
burnt  offering;  therefore,  I  expect  thou  wilt  hear  and  grant 
these  requests,  and  I,  thy  servant,  will  return  thee  thanks,  and 
love  thee  for  thy  gifts.' " 

While  the  old  chieftain  went  through  his  devotions  with 
the  most  profound  solemnity,  the  irreverent  Smith,  greatly 
amused  to  see  him  waste  all  his  tobacco,  unfortunately  laughed 
at  him.  The  savage  paid  no  attention  to  it  at  the  time,  but 
when  the  ceremony  was  over  he  scolded  Smith  roundly.  The 
latter  apologized,  smoked  some  dried  willow  bark  with  him,  the 
tobacco  being  all  gone,  and  to  patch  up  matters  told  him  a  good 
deal  about  Christianity.  "  I  told  him  something  of  the  method 
of  reconciliation  with  an  offended  God,  as  revealed  in  my  Bible. 
He  said  that  he  liked  my  story  better  than  that  of  the  French 
priests,  but  he  thought  that  he  was  now  too  old  to  begin  to 
learn  a  new  religion,  therefore  he  should  continue  to  worship 
God  in  the  way  that  he  had  been  taught,  and  that  if  future 
happiness  was  to  be  had  in  his  way  of  worship,  he  expected 
he  would  obtain  it,  and  if  it  was  inconsistent  with  the  honor 
of  the  Great  Spirit  to  accept  of  him  in  his  own  way  of  wor 
ship,  he  hoped  that  Owaneeyo  would  accept  of  him  in  the  way 
I  had  mentioned,  or  in  some  other  way,  though  he  might  now 
be  ignorant  of  the  channel  through  which  mercy  might  be  con 
veyed.  He  said  that  he  believed  that  Owaneeyo  would  hear 
and  help  every  one  that  sincerely  waited  upon  him." 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  227 

In  a  few  days  the  rains  descended  and  the  floods  came,  and 
the  chief,  duly  reminding  Smith  that  it  was  in  answer  to  his 
prayer,  said  that  they  might  now  embark  for  their  people. 

Smith  remained  with  the  Indians  till  the  summer  of  1759, 
when  his  tribe  happened  to  be  near  Montreal.  Here  he  heard 
of  a  French  ship  which  had  on  board  English  prisoners  to  be 
taken  across  the  sea  and  exchanged  for  Frenchmen.  His  res 
olution  was  made  up.  He  managed  to  be  taken  captive  by  the 
French  as  a  means  for  getting  away  from  the  Indians.  After 
some  months  in  prison  he  was  exchanged,  and  in  1760,  made 
his  way  back  to  his  Pennsylvania  home,  where  he  was  joyfully 
received.  His  parents  had  never  known  whether  he  had  been 
killed  or  taken  prisoner.  One  sorrow  awaited  him.  His  sweet 
heart  was  married  to  another  man. 

Smith  took  a  very  prominent  part  in  Indian  wars  from  this 
time  forth.  He  was  a  colonel  in  the  Revolutionary  war,  and  in 
1788  removed  to  Bourbon  county,  Kentucky.  Here  he  became 
a  prominent  man,  being  a  member  of  the  legislature  for  many 
years.  In  his  later  years  he  wrote  a  narrative  of  his  adven 
tures  among  the  Indians,  which  is,  by  far,  the  best  specimen 
of  that  kind  of  literature  extant.  It  has  been  called  the 
American  Robinson  Crusoe.  The  quotations  we  have  made 
show  its  interesting  and  graphic  style. 

THE  BARD  FAMILY. 

Among  the  stories  of  Indian  captivities  which  are  in 
existence  is  one  which  purports  to  have  been  prepared  by 
Archibald  Bard,  a  son  of  the  persons  figuring  in  the  narrative. 

Richard  Bard  owned,  in  1758,  a  small  grist-mill  in  York 
county,  Pennsylvania. 

One  morning  in  April,  a  band  of  Indians  surrounded  the 
mill  and  cabin.  The  doors  were  closed,  but  the  Indians  pre 
pared  to  fire  the  house,  and  the  inmates  chose  to  surrender. 
These  were  Mr.  Bard  and  his  wife,  a  servant-girl  and  boy,  and 
a  Lieutenant  Potter.  The  savages  also  captured  a  lad  named 


228  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

White,  who  was  bringing  a  bag  of  corn  to  the  mill  to  be 
ground,  and  two  men  named  Hunter  and  McManimy,  who 
were  at  work  in  a  neighboring  field.  At  a  short  distance 
from  the  house  the  Indians  deliberately  tomahawked  Potter 
and  Hunter.  The  remaining  captives  were  hurried  on  at  a 
break-neck  speed  over  the  mountains. 

On  the  fifth  day  Mr.  Bard  received  a  severe  beating  with 
the  club  of  a  gun,  almost  disabling  him.  One-half  of  his  head 
had  been  painted  red.  This  indicated  that  one-half  of  the 
council  were  in  favor  of  putting  him  to  death,  and  the  other 
half  opposed  to  it.  Bard's  thoughts  were  busy  with  plans 
for  escape,  but  he  was  not  allowed  to  communicate  with  his 
wife.  At  last  they  were  ordered  to  dress  some  turkeys.  Dur 
ing  the  labor,  the  wretched  husband  and  wife  signalled  that, 
if  possible,  each  should  escape  separately  at  the  first  oppor 
tunity,  and  if  only  one  got  away,  that  every  effort  should  be 
made  to  secure  the  release  of  the  other.  Bard's  chance  came. 
He  was  ordered  to  bring  water  from  a  spring  twenty  yards 
away.  Mrs.  Bard  engaged  the  attention  of  the  Indians  at  the 
moment,  and  instead  of  stopping  at  the  spring,  her  husband 
bounded  away  into  the  forest. 

The  Indians  soon  missed  him,  and  gave  chase.  Bard,  being 
so  lame  that  he  could  not  run  far,  crawled  into  a  hollow  log, 
where  he  lay  till  his  pursuers  had  passed  him,  and  then  started 
in  a  different  direction.  Bruised,  footsore,  and  famished,  he 
pressed  on  all  that  day  and  the  next,  hardly  daring  to  look 
behind  him,  much  less  to  stop. 

"  Towards  the  close  of  the  second  day,"  says  the .  narrator, 
"he  came  to  a  mountain  four  miles  across,  and  at  the  top 
covered  with  snow.  By  this  time  he  was  almost  exhausted, 
having  traveled  nearly  constantly  for  two  days  and  nights,  and 
being  without  food,  except  a  few  buds  plucked  from  the  trees 
as  he  went  along ;  his  shoes  were  worn  out,  and  the  country  he 
traveled  through  being  extremely  rough  and  in  many  places 
covered  with  briers  of  a  poisonous  nature,  his  feet  were  very 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  229 

much  lacerated  and  swollen.  To  add  to  his  difficulties,  the 
mountain  was  overgrown  with  laurel,  and  the  snow  lodged  upon 
its  leaves  so  bent  it  down  that  he  was  unable,  in  many  places, 
to  get  along  in  his  weak  condition,  except  by  creeping  upon  his 
hands  and  knees  under  the  branches. 

"  Three  days  had  now  elapsed  since  his  escape ;  and,  although 
he  feared  that  the  Indians  were  still  in  pursuit  of  him,  and  that 
by  traveling  along  the  mountain  they  would  find  his  tracks -in 
the  snow,  and  by  that  means  be  led  to  his  place  of  concealment, 
yet  he  found  himself  so  lame  that  he  could  proceed  no  further. 
His  hands,  also,  by  crawling  upon  them  in  the  snow,  became 
almost  as  much  swollen  as  his  feet.  He  was  therefore  compelled 
to  lie  by,  without  much  prospect,  indeed,  of  ever  proceeding  any 
farther  on  his  journey.  Besides  the  danger  of  being  overtaken 
by  his  savage  pursuers,  he  was,  in  fact,  in  a  starving  condition, 
not  having  tasted  food  since  his  escape,  except  the  buds  already 
mentioned,  plucked,  as  he  journeyed  on,  from  the  bean-wood,  or 
red-bud  tree,  as  it  is  called. 

"  On  the  fifth  day,  however,  as  he  was  creeping  on  his  hands 
and  knees  (not  being  able  yet  to  walk)  in  search  of  buds  or 
herbs  to  appease  his  hunger,  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  see  a 
rattlesnake,  which  he  killed  and  ate  raw.  After  lying  by  three 
or  four  days,  he  allayed  the  swelling  of  his  feet  by  puncturing 
the  festered  parts  with  a  thorn;  he  then  tore  up  his  breeches, 
and  with  the  pieces  bound  up  his  feet  as  well  as  he  could.  Thus 
prepared,  he  again  set  out  upon  his  journey,  limping  along  with 
great  pain;  but  he  had  no  other  alternative,  except  to  remain 
where  he  was  and  die.  He  had  gone  but  a  few  miles  when, 
from  a  hill  he  had  just  ascended,  he  was  startled  by  the  wel 
come  sound  of  a  drum;  he  called  as  loud  as  he  could,  but  there 
was  no  one  to  answer ;  it  was  but  a  delusion  of  the  imagination. 

"On  the  eighth  day  he  crossed  the  Juniata  by  wading  it, 
which,  on  account  of  his  lameness,  he  accomplished  with  great 
difficulty.  Shivering  in  his  wet  clothes,  he  luckily  caught  sight 
of  a  camp-fire  left  by  some  hunters.  Here  he  passed  the  night 


230  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

in  comparative  comfort.  In  the  morning  he  was  horrified  to 
come  suddenly  upon  three  Indians,  probably  the  builders  of  the 
camp-fire.  They  proved,  however,  to  be  friendly,  and  assisted 
him  to  Fort  Littleton,  where  he  obtained  food  and  rest." 

To  return  to  the  other  captives.  Shortly  after  her  husband's 
escape,  Mrs.  Bard  received  a  terrible  beating  from  a  squaw. 
When  the  party  prepared  to  move  on,  the  wretched  woman 
pleaded  to  be  left  where  she  was.  The  answer  was  that  she 
might,  if  she  preferred  to  be  tomahawked  rather  than  proceed. 
One  day  the  party  arrived  at  an  Indian  town.  McManimy  was 
detained  outside  the  squalid  village,  while  the  rest  were  taken 
in;  Mrs.  Bard  receiving  a  terrible  scratching  from  the  long  nails 
of  the  squaws. 

Poor  McManimy  met  with  a  worse  fate.  A  circle  of  Indians 
formed  around  him,  and  commenced  beating  him.  A  stake  was 
meanwhile  driven  in  the  ground,  to  which  he  was  then  bound. 
The  scene  of  torture  then  commenced.  Some  threw  shovelfuls 
of  hot  coals  on  him.  Others  heated  gun-barrels  red-hot,  and 
seared  his  flesh,  until  the  sickening  odor  polluted  the  air.  The 
wretched  man  was  at  last  released  from  his  sufferings  by  death. 

Soon  after  this,  Mrs.  Bard  was  separated  from  the  other 
captives,  and  saw  them  no  more.  The  only  comfort  she  had 
was  some  information  from  a  white  woman,  who  had  been 
taken  captive  years  before,  and  had  taken  an  Indian  husband. 
This  woman  told  her  that  the  belt  of  wampum  around  her 
neck  indicated  that  she  was  not  to  be  put  to  death,  but  was 
designed  to  be  the  wife  of  some  warrior.  She  added  that,  as 
soon  as  captive  women  could  speak  the  Indian  tongue,  they  were 
forced  to  take  an  Indian  husband  or  be  put  to  death.  Mrs. 
Bard  took  the  hint,  and  during  the  whole  time  of  her  captivity, 
two  years  and  a  half,  she  never  uttered  a  single  word  in  the  In 
dian  tongue.  During  this  time  she  was  treated  by  the  family 
in  which  she  lived  with  marked  kindness.  They  removed,  soon 
after  her  arrival,  to  the  head-waters  of  the  Susquehanna.  The 
fatigues  of  this  journey,  following  so  closely  on  the  other, 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  THREE  CAPTIVES.  231 

brought  on  a  dangerous  illness,  confining  her  for  sev.eral  months. 
In  spite  of  the  rough  fare,  and  rougher  accommodations,  she  re 
covered,  and  lived  both  to  hope  for  liberty  and  receive  it. 

When  Mr.  Bard  was  partially  recovered,  at  Fort  Littleton, 
his  anxiety  for  his  wife  impelled  him  to  leave  his  bed  and  start 
to  Fort  Pitt.  Arriving  there,  he  found  some  Indians  arranging 
for  a  peace.  He  visited  their  camp  across  the  river,  and  recog 
nizing  some  of  his  old  captors,  questioned  them  eagerly  about 
his  wife.  They  told  him  to  come  back  the  next  day.  That 
night  a  young  man  who  had  been  taken  captive  in  childhood, 
and  had  been  adopted  into  the  tribe,  crossed  to  the  fort  and 
warned  Bard  not  to  come,  as  he  had  promised,  the  next  day,  as 
a  plot  was  perfected  to  kill  him. 

From  this  time  the  disappointed  man  never  ceased  to  search 
for  his  wife.  Her  removal  to  the  Susquehanna  threw  him  com 
pletely  in  the  dark  as  to  her  whereabouts.  At  last,  he  obtained 
a  clue,  and  wrote  her  a  letter,  telling  her  to  promise  her  captors 
forty  pounds  for  her  release.  But  the  plan  failed,  either  through 
the  non-delivery  of  the  letter,  or  the  distrust  of  the  Indians. 
Among  other  schemes,  he  hired  an  Indian  to  steal  his  wife,  but 
at  the  last  moment  the  fellow  refused  to  go  on  such  a  dangerous 
and  doubtful  errand.  At  last,  peace  having  been  made,  Bard 
determined  at  every  hazard  to  go  for  his  wife  himself.  He  did 
so,  found  her,  and  succeeded  in  purchasing  her  release. 

A  tragic  incident  occurred  in  connection  with  Mrs.  Bard's 
return  home.  Among  the  Indians  was  an  adopted  brother,  who 
had  been  kind  to  her,  and  Mr.  Bard  invited  him  to  come  and 
see  him  some  time.  It  was  not  long  before  the  Indian  accepted 
the  invitation.  While  on  his  visit,  the  poor  red  man  got  drunk 
at  a  neighboring  tavern,  and  received  a  dangerous  stab  in  a 
quarrel.  Mr.  Bard  cared  for  the  wounded  Indian  in  the  most 
attentive  manner,  and  he  recovered.  On  his  return  to  his  peo 
ple,  the  savage  was  accused  of  disloyalty,  and  of  having  become 
a  white  man.  A  council  of  braves  was  held,  his  death  decreed, 
and  the  same  day  the  fiat  was  put  into  execution. 


232  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  VIZ 

i 

THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC. 

|HE  web  of  history  is  woven  from  the  countless 
threads  of  individual  lives.  Its  pattern  is  con 
trolled  by  the  genius  of  great  men. 

Pontiac  was  the  chief  of  the  mighty  con 
federacy  of  the  Ottowas,  the  Ojibwas,  and  the 
Pottawotamies,  which  had  its  center  of  power 
in  what  is  now  the  State  of  Michigan.  But 
the  genius  of  the  mighty  chief  had  spread  his 
fame  and  influence,  not  merely  through  the  confederacy,  nor  yet 
alone  to  the  surrounding  tribes,  but  over  the  greater  part  of  the 
continent. 

On  the  east  his  name  was  respectfully  mentioned  among 
the  Indians  of  the  Mohawk  Valley  as  that  of  their  greatest 
foe.  Far  to  the  South,  the  wandering  tribes  of  Florida  and 
Louisiana,  had  heard  of  the  unapproachable  prowess  of  Pontiac, 
and  looked  up  to  him  as  the  greatest  of  all  the  Alg'onquin 
chiefs.  His  intellect  was  broad,  powerful,  and  far-seeing.  In 
him  were  combined  the  qualities  of  a  great  leader,  a  great  war 
rior,  and  a  great  statesman.  His  plans  continually  reached  out 
beyond  the  narrow  limits  of  his  tribe.  His  ambitions  vaulted 
far  beyond  the  scope  of  those  of  common  chieftains.  His  under 
standing  rose  to  higher  generalizations,  broader  comprehensions, 
than  those  of  any  other  Indian  mind.  In  1760  he  was  fifty 
years  old,  just  at  the  meridian  of  all  his  splendid  powers. 

Great  minds  require  great  opportunities.  The  world  is  full 
of  wasted  genius.  "Hands  that  the  rod  of  empire  migfit  hr«ve 


, 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  235 

swayed,"  are  to  be  found  holding  the  plow-handle  and  the 
plane.  Cromwell  without  the  English  Revolution,  Washington 
without  the  Revolutionary  war,  Grant  without  the  Civil  war, 
would  have  been  indistinguishable  from  the  common  throng 
of  men. 

Pontiac  was  great.  He  also  had  great  opportunities.  Let 
us  take  a  survey. 

The  English  had  conquered  America.  The  French,  the  idols 
of  the  Indian  heart,  to  support  whose  cause  the  remotest  tribes 
of  the  north  and  west  had  furnished  quotas  of  warriors,  trav 
eling  hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  miles  to  strike  a  blow  at  the 
English,  were  humiliated,  driven  from  the  continent. 

From  the  small  and  widely  separated  forts  along  the  lakes 
and  in  the  interior  the  red  men  had,  with  sorrow  and  anger, 
seen  the  fleur-de-lis  disappear  and  the  cross  of  St.  George  take 
its  place.  This  took  place,  although  the  Indian  power  was 
unbroken.  Toward  the  intruders,  victors  over  their  friends, 
patrons,  and  allies,  the  Indians  maintained  a  stubborn  resent 
ment  and  hostility. 

We  have  already  noticed  the  difference  ,in  the  policies  of 
the  French  and  English.  The  abundant  supplies  of  rifles, 
blankets,  gunpowder,  beads,  pipes,  and  brandy,  which  had  for 
so  many  years  been  dispensed  from  the  forts  with  lavish  hand, 
were  abruptly  stopped.  When  the  Indians  visited  the  forts, 
instead  of  being  treated  with  politic  attention  and  politeness, 
they  were  received  gruffly,  subjected  to  indignities,  and  not 
infrequently  helped  out  of  the  fort  with  the  butt  of  a  sentry's 
musket  or  a  vigorous  kick  from  an  officer. 

In  addition  to  these  things  the  wilderness  was  overrun  with 
brutal  English  traders,  who  plundered,  cheated  and  cursed  the 
warriors,  dishonored  their  squaws,  and  indulged  in  every  form 
of  profligacy.  The  best  settlers  tried  to  break  this  up,  some 
times  stopping  a  mad  revel  by  force  of  arms.  Such  a  scene  is 
presented  in  the  opposite  picture.  Meanwhile  France,  still 
smarting  under  her  defeats,  dispatched  emissaries  to  almost 

13 


236  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

every  council  house  and  wigwam  from  the  lakes  to  the  gulf, 
saying  that  French  armies  were  already  on  their  way  to  drive 
out  the  English,  and  inciting  the  Indians  to  inflict  swift  and 
bloody  revenge  upon  the  foes  of  France. 

Lashed  almost  into  frenzy  by  these  agencies,  still  another 
disturbing  influence  appeared  in  a  great  Indian  prophet,  who 
arose  among  the  Delawares,  preaching  the  recovery  of  the 
Indian's  hunting  grounds  from  the  white  man,  and  claiming  to 
have  received  a  revelation  from  God.  Vast  throngs  listened  to 
his  wild  eloquence,  his  audience  containing  hearers  who  had 
come  from  distant  regions  to  hear  him.  The  white  man  was 
driving  the  Indians  from  their  country,  he  said,  and  unless  the 
Indians  obeyed  the  Great  Spirit,  and  destroyed  the  white  man, 
then  the  latter  would  destroy  them. 

This  was  the  state  of  affairs  among  the  Indians  in  1761  and 
1762.  Everywhere  was  discontent,  sullen  hatred,  and  explosive 
passion.  The  shadows  of  the  forest  were  not  blacker  than  the 
ominous  darkness  which  pervaded  the  Indian  breast.  This 
was  not  local,  but  was  far  more  nearly  universal,  spreading 
from  the  lakes  to  the  gulf,  than  any  other  Indian  disturbance 
before  or  since. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  much  of  this  state  of  affairs  was 
due  to  Pontiac's  designing  intrigue  and  instigation,  and  how 
much  of  it  arose  spontaneously.  We  can  not  tell  whether  Pon- 
tiac  made  it,  or  whether  it  made  Pontiac.  Certain  it  is  that 
Pontiac  maintained  close  relations  with  the  great  Shawanese 
prophet.  However  this  may  be,  we  are  certain  of  two  things, 
that  it  constituted  Pontiac's  opportunity,  and  that  but  for  his 
genius  the  whole  mighty  ferment  would  have  evaporated  in  a 
few  scattering  Indian  raids. 

While  these  things  moved  the  common  Indian,  the  vision  of 
the  great  and  wise  Pontiac  took  a  wider  scope,  and  was  inspired 
by  loftier  notions  than  a  mere  resentment  at  the  failure  of  the 
presents  and  the  summary  treatment  of  idle  loungers  about  the 
forts.  He  saw  that  as  long  as  France  and  England  had  been 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  237 

opposed  to  each  other  in  America,  the  Indians  had  held  the  bal 
ance  of  power,  and  received  the  treatment  which  their  impor 
tance  merited.  But  now  that  England  had  no  longer  a  rival,  the 
Indians  were  spurned  and  crowded  to  the  wall.  This  he  saw 
must  result  in  the  destruction  of  the  race,  unless  France  could 
regain  her  foothold  on  the  continent.  This  became  his  ambi 
tion.  To  this  end  he  conceived  and  concerted  the  most  won 
derful  conspiracy,  taking  into  view  the  surroundings  and  cir 
cumstances,  upon  which  the  historian's  toil  has  shed  the  light 
of  day. 

Toward  the  close  of  1762,  dark  messengers  from  Pontiac, 
bearing  the  war  belt  of  wampum,  broad  and  ,long  as  the  import 
ance  of  the  occasion  demanded,  threaded  their  way  through  the 
forest  to  the  farthest  shores  of  Lake  Superior,  and  the  distant 
delta  of  the  Mississippi.  On  the  arrival  of  these  ambassadors 
among  a  tribe,  the  chief  warriors  would  assemble  in  the  council 
house.  Then  the  orator,  flinging  down  the  red-stained  toma 
hawk  before  his  audience,  would  deliver,  with  energetic  emphasis 
and  action,  the  message  from  his  lord.  The  keynote  was  WAR  ! 
On  a  certain  day  in  May,  after  so  many  moons,  the  Indians 
from  lakes  to  gulf,  were  to  take  the  war-path  simultaneously, 
destroy  the  English  fort  nearest  them,  and  then  throw  them 
selves  on  the  unprotected  frontier. 

The  bugle  call  of  such  a  mighty  leader  as  Pontiac  roused 
the  remotest  tribes.  Everywhere  they  joined  the  conspiracy, 
and  sent  lofty  messages  to  Pontiac  of  the  deeds  they  would  per 
form.  The  ordinary  pursuits  of  life  were  given  up.  The  war 
riors  danced  the  war-dance  for  weeks  at  a  time.  Squaws  were 
set  to  sharpening  knives,  moulding  bullets,  and  mixing  war-paint. 
Children  caught  the  fever,  and  practiced  incessantly  with  bows 
and  arrows. 

For  the  one  time  in  their  history,  a  thousand  wild  and  rest 
less  tribes  were  animated  by  a  single  inspiration  am}  purpose. 
That  which  was  incapable  of  union,  united.  Conjurors  practiced 
their  arts.  Magicians  consulted  their  oracles.  Prophets  avowed 


238  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

revelations  from  the  Most  High.  Warriors  withdrew  to  caves 
and  fastnesses,  where,  with  fasting  and  self-torture,  they  wrought 
themselves  into  more  fearful  excitement  and  mania.  Young  men 
sought  to  raise  their  courage  by  eating  raw  flesh  and  drinking 
hot  blood.  Tall  chieftains,  crowned  with  nodding  plumes,  ha 
rangued  their  followers  nightly,  striking  every  chord  of  revenge, 
glory,  avarice,  pride,  patriotism,  and  love,  which  trembled  in  the 
savage  breast. 

As  the  orator  approached  his  climax,  he  would  leap  into  the 
air,  brandishing  his  hatchet  as  if  rushing  upon  an  enemy,  yell 
ing  the  war-whoop,  throwing  himself  into  a  thousand  postures, 
his  eyes  aflame,  his  muscles  strained  and  knotted,  his  face  a 
thunderstorm  of  passion,  as  if  in  the  actual  struggle.  At  last, 
with  a  triumphant  shout,  he  brandishes  aloft  the  scalp  of  the 
imaginary  victim.  His  eloquence  is  irresistible.  His  audience 
is  convulsed  with  passionate  interest,  and  sways  like  trees  tossed 
in  the  tempest.  At  last,  the  whole  assembly,  fired  with  uncon 
trollable  frenzy,  rush  together  in  the  ring,  leaping,  stamping,  yell 
ing,  brandishing  knives  and  hatchets  in  the  firelight,  hacking  and 
stabbing  the  air,  until  the  lonely  midnight  forest  is  transformed 
into  a  howling  pandemonium  of  devils,  from  whose  fearful 
uproar  the  startled  animals,  miles  away,  flee  frightened  into 
remoter  lairs. 

The  time  for  the  bursting  of  the  storm  drew  near.  Yet  at 
only  one  place  on  the  frontier  was  there  the  least  suspicion  of 
Indian  disturbance.  The  garrisons  of  the  exposed  forts  reposed 
in  fancied  security.  The  arch  conspirator,  Pontiac,  had  breathed 
the  breath  of  life  into  a  vast  conspiracy,  whose  ramifications 
spread  their  network  over  a  region  of  country  of  which  the 
north-western  and  south-eastern  extremities  were  nearly  two 
thousand  miles  apart.  Yet  the  traders,  hunters,  scouts,  and 
trappers  who  were  right  among  the  Indians,  and  were  versed  in 
the  signs  of  approaching  trouble,  suspected  nothing  wrong. 
Colossal  conspiracy!  Stupendous  deceit! 

On  the  27th  of  April,  1763,  Pontiac  met  the  chiefs  of  the 


'THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  239 

allied  tribes,  from  far  and  near,  in  a  grand  war  council,  on  the 
banks  of  the  little  river,  Etorces,  not  far  from  Detroit.  Park- 
man  gives  a  vivid  picture  of  the  assembly,  as  band  after  band 
came  straggling  in  before  the  appointed  time.  "  Here  were  idle 
warriors,  smoking  and  laughing  in  groups,  or  beguiling  the  lazy 
hours  with  gambling,  with  feasting,  or  with  doubtful  stories  of 
their  own  exploits  in  war.  Here  were  youthful  gallants,  bediz 
ened  with  all  the  foppery  of  beads,  feathers,  and  hawks'  bills, 
but  held,  as  yet,  in  light  esteem,  since  they  had  slain  no  enemy, 
and  taken  no  scalp.  Here  also  were  young  damsels,  radiant  with 
bears'  oil,  ruddy  with  vermilion,  and  versed  in  all  the  arts  of 
forest  coquetry;  shriveled  hags,  with  limbs  of  wire,  and  voices 
like  those  of  the  screech  owls ;  and  troops  of  naked  children, 
with  small,  black,  mischievous  eyes,  roaming  the  outskirts  of  the 
woods. 

"On  the  long  expected  morning,  heralds  passed  from  one 
group  of  lodges  to  another,  calling  the  warriors  in  loud  voice  to 
attend  the  great  council  before  Pontiac.  In  accordance  with  the 
summons  they  came  issuing  from  their  wigwams — the  tall,  naked 
figures  of  the  wild  Ojibwas,  with  quivers  slung  at  their  backs, 
and  light  war-clubs  resting  in  the  hollow  of  their  arms ;  Otta- 
was,  wrapped  close  in  their  gaudy  blankets ;  Wyandots,  flutter 
ing  in  painted  shirts,  their  heads  adorned  with  feathers,  and 
their  leggins  garnished  with  bells.  All  were  soon  seated  in  a 
wide  circle  upon  the  grass,  row  within  row,  a  grave  and  silent 
assembly.  Each  savage  countenance  seemed  carved  in  wood, 
and  none  could  have  detected  the  deep  and  fiery  passions  hid 
den  beneath  that  immovable  exterior. 

>c  Then  Pontiac  rose.  According  to  tradition,  not  above  mid 
dle  height,  his  muscular  figure  was  cast  in  a  mould  of  remark 
able  symmetry  and  vigor.  His  complexion  was  darker  than  is 
usual  with  his  race,  and  his  features,  though  by  no  means 
regular,  had  a  bold  and  stern  expression,  while  his  habitual 
bearing  was  imperious  and  peremptory,  like  that  of  a  man 
accustomed  to  sweep  away  all  opposition  by  the  force  of  his 


240  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

impetuous  will.  His  ordinary  attire  was  that  of  the  primitive 
savage,  a  scanty  cincture  girt  about  his  loins,  and  his  long  black 
hair  flowing  loosely  at  his  back;  but  on  occasions  like  this  he 
was  wont  to  appear  as  befitted  his  power  and  character,  and  he 
stood  before  the  council,  plumed  and  painted  in  the  full  costume 
of  war.  Looking  round  upon  his  wild  auditors,  he  began  to 
speak,  with  fierce  gesture  and  loud  impassioned  voice." 

Parkman's  story  of  the  council  reminds  one  of  the  council 
of  infernal  peers  in  Pandemonium,  as  described  by  Milton.  One 
naturally  expects  Pontiac,  this  Moloch  of  the  forest,  to  begin, 
"My  sentence  is  for  open  war,"  and  the  expectation  is  fulfilled. 
He  inveighed  against  the  arrogance,  rapacity,  and  injustice  of 
the  English,  and  contrasted  them  with  the  French,  whom  they 
had  driven  from  the  soil.  He  recounted  the  neglect,  the  insults, 
the  outrages,  which  he  and  his  braves  had  suffered  at  their  hands. 
He  pointed  out  how  the  English,  no  longer  having  the  French 
to  contend  with,  had  not  only  ceased  to  treat  the  Indians  with 
respect,  but  had  stolen  their  hunting-grounds,  and  awaited  only 
a  chance  to  destroy  them.  Next  he  showed  them  an  immense 
belt  of  wampum,  saying  that  he  had  received  it  from  the  French 
king,  whose  armies  and  war-canoes  were  already  on  the  way  to 
sail  up  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  retake  the  forts  from  the  English. 
The  Indians  and  their  French  brothers  would  again  fight  side 
by  side  against  the  common  foe,  whose  waving  banners  had 
long,  long  ago  been  trailed  in  the  bloody  mire  of  defeat  on 
the  Monongahela. 

The  orator  having  lashed  his  audience  into  fury,  quickly 
soothed  them  with  the  story  of  a  Delaware  Indian,  probably 
the  prophet  before  mentioned,  who  had  had  a  dream,  in  which 
it  was  revealed  to  him  that,  by  traveling  in  a  certain  direction, 
he  would  at  length  reach  the  abode  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

After  many  days  of  journeying,  full  of  strange  incidents,  he 
saw  before  him  a  vast  mountain  of  dazzling  whiteness,  so  pre 
cipitous  that  he  was  about  to  turn  back  in  despair  when  a 
beautiful  woman,  arrayed  in  white,  appeared  to  him,  and 'told 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  241 

him  that,  in  order  to  proceed  he  must  throw  away  his  gun, 
ammunition,  provision  and  clothing,  and  wash  in  a  stream  of 
crystalline  purity,  flowing  near  by.  He  obeyed,  but  again 
failed  to  climb  the  mountain,  when  the  vision  reappeared  and 
told  him  he  must  climb  with  one  hand  and  foot.  So  doing,  he 
succeeded,  and  at  last  came  to  a  city  of  splendid  dwellings. 
Hesitating  which  to  enter,  a  man,  gorgeously  attired,  took  him 
by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  the  largest  one,  where,  astonished 
by  the  unspeakable  splendor  which  surrounded  him,  the  poor 
Delaware  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

The  Great  Spirit  bade  him  to  be  seated,  and  addressed  him, 
saying  that  he  was  the  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  that  he 
had  made  this  country  for  the  Indian,  and  not  for  the  white 
man ;  that  as  for  the  English,  "  these  dogs  dressed  in  red,"  the 
Indians  must  lift  the  hatchet  against  them,  and  destroy  them 
from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Many  other  things  did  the  Great 
Spirit  say  to  the  Delaware  before  the  latter  found  his  way 
back  to  his  brothers.  Pontiac  next  told  the  wide-laid  plans  for 
the  outbreak  during  the  next  moon,  urged  his  auditors  to  go  to 
war,  and,  finally,  laid  before  the  vast  council  a  stratagem  for 
the  capture  of  Detroit. 

He  ended.  A  deep  roar  of  applause  burst  forth.  No  one 
was  hardy  enough  to  venture  opposition  to  the  proposal  of  their 
great  leader.  Chief  after  chief  arose,  and  with  solemn  empha 
sis,  entered  his  approval  of  the  great  Pontiac's  conspiracy. 

"  The  bold  design 

Pleased  highly  those  infernal  states,  and  joy 
Sparkled  in  all  their  eyes.     With  full  assent 
They  vote." 

"With  this  conclusion  the  assembly  dissolved,  and  all  the 
evening  the  women  were  busily  employed  in  loading  the  canoes, 
which  were  drawn  up  on  the  bank  of  the  stream.  The  encamp 
ments  broke  up  at  so  early  an  hour,  that  when  the  sun  rose,  the 
swarm  had  melted  away,  the  secluded  scene  was  restored  to  its 
wonted  silence  and  solitude,  and  nothing  remained  but  the  slen- 


242  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

der  frame-work  of  several  hundred  cabins,  with  fragments  of 
broken  utensils,  pieces  of  cloth,  and  scraps  of  hide,  scattered 
over  the  trampled  grass,  while  the  smoldering  embers  of  num 
berless  fires  mingled  their  dark  smoke  with  the  white  mist  which 
rose  from  the  little  river." 

In  1763,  the  site  of  the  city  of  Detroit,  Michigan,  was  oc 
cupied  by  a  settlement  of  some  twenty-five  hundred  people.  In 
the  center  of  the  long  line  of  dwellings,  with  their  little  gardens, 
straggling  along  the  river  shore  for  several  miles,  stood  what  was 
known  as  the  Fort.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  fortified  part  of  the  town. 
It  consisted  of  a  palisade  twenty-five  feet  high,  with  a  bastion 
at  each  corner,  and  block-houses  over  the  gates.  Within  this 
palisade  were  crowded  a  hundred  small,  wooden,  straw-thatched 
dwellings,  crowded  closely  together,  along  narrow  streets.  Be 
sides  these  incommodious  dwellings,  there  was  a  little  church, 
a  council-house,  and  a  well-built  range  of  barracks.  A  wide 
roadway  separated  the  houses  from  the  palisade. 

The  garrison  of  the  fort  consisted  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  English  soldiers,  under  Major  Gladwyn.  Besides  these, 
were  forty  fur-traders,  and  the  ordinary  Canadian  residents  of 
the  fort.  Several  light  pieces  of  artillery  peeped  out  from  the 
bastions,  and  two  armed  schooners,  the  Beaver  and  the  Gladivyn, 
stood  motionless  in  the  stream.  The  settlement  outside  the  fort, 
stretching  out  more  than  eight  miles  along  both  sides  of  the 
river,  consisted  of  the  dwellings  of  Canadians,  and  three  Indian 
villages. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  5th  of  May.  A  Canadian  woman 
from  the  fort  crossed  the  river  to  the  Ottawa  village,  to  buy 
some  maple  sugar  and  venison.  She  noticed  some  warriors  in 
a  strange  occupation.  They  were  filing  off  their  gun-barrels. 
This  left  the  entire  weapon,  stock  and  all,  only  a  yard  in 
length.  Such  a  weapon  could  easily  be  hid  under  a  blanket. 
That  night  the  woman  mentioned  it  to  a  neighbor.  "  Oh," 
said  he,  "  that  explains  it."  "  Explains  what  ?  "  "  The  reason 
why  so  many  Indians  have  lately  wanted  to  borrow  my  files." 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC. 


243 


He  was  a  blacksmith.  No  more  attention  was  paid  to  either 
circumstance. 

The  next  afternoon  a  plump  and  pretty  Ojibwa  maid  came 
to  the  fort.  She  was  Gladwyn's  mistress.  But  this  time  Cath 
erine's  eyes  no  longer  sparkled  with  pleasure  and  excitement. 
Her  face  was  anxious,  and  her  look  furtive.  She  lingered  long 
at  the  gate  till  she  could  speak  to  Gladwyn  alone. 

The  major  at  once  saw  that  the  girl  knew  something  which 
she  feared,  yet  longed  to  tell.  He  caressed  her,  and  sought  to 


CATHERINE  REVEALS  THE  CONSPIRACY  TO  GLADWYN. 

win  her  secret,  but  it  was  not  for  a  long  while,  and  under  sol 
emn  promises  that  she  should  not  be  betrayed,  that  the  dusky 
sweetheart  spoke.  She  said  that  on  the  morrow  Pontiac  would 
come  to  the  fort  with  sixty  chiefs,  and  demand  a  council.  Each 
would  be  armed  with  a  gun,  cut  short  and  hidden  under  his 
blanket.  When  all  were  assembled  in  the  council-house,  at  a  given 
signal  from  Pontiac,  the  chiefs  would  fire  on  the  officers,  then  rush 
out  and  massacre  the  garrison.  Gladwyn  believed  the  maid. 

She  went  back  to  her  people.     The  guards  that  night  were 
doubled.     At  times  the  watchers  on  the  walls  heard  unwonted 


244  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

sounds,  borne  to  them  on  the  night  wind  from  the  distant  vil 
lages  of  the  Indians.  They  were  the  steady  beat  of  the  Indian 
drum,  and  the  shrill  choruses  of  the  war-dance. 

At  the  expected  hour,  Pontiac  came,  followed  in  single  file 
by  his  sixty  chiefs.  Each  was  wrapped  to  the  throat  in  his 
gaudy  blanket,  his  face  smeared  with  paint,  and  his  head 
adorned  with  nodding  plumes.  The  leader  started  as  he  saw 
the  soldiers  drawn  up  in  line,  and  heard  the  ominous  tap  of 
the  drum. 

The  council  took  place,  but  under  the  encircling  guns  of  the 
soldiers.  Pontiac  saw  that  the  plot  was  discovered.  The  signal 
for  attack  was  not  given.  After  a  short  and  uneasy  sitting,  he 
and  his  chiefs  withdrew  with  marked  discomfiture  and  appre 
hension.  Better  far  had  it  been  if  Gladwyn  had  made  prisoners 
of  the  chiefs  of  the  conspiracy.  But  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
extent  of  the  plot.  He  supposed  it  to  be  a  fit  of  bad  temper. 
He  allowed  his  enemies,  and  the  arch-conspirator,  Pontiac,  to 
slip  through  his  fingers.  Enraged  at  his  defeat,  and  shrewdly 
perceiving  Gladwyn's  ignorance  of  the  real  situation,  Pontiac 
returned  the  next  day,  to  remove  the  suspicions  of  the  garrison 
by  smoking  the  pipe  of  peace. 

On  the  9th  of  May  a  great  throng  of  Indians  appeared 
before  the  fort.  Pontiac  was  told  that  he  might  enter,  but 
his  company  must  be  excluded.  Instantly  the  savage  threw 
off  the  mask  of  deceit  he  had  worn  so  long,  and,  casting  one 
look  of  unspeakable  rage  and  hate  at  the  fort,  he  strode  away 
across  the  plain.  At  his  approach,  the  whole  horde  of  savages 
rushed  to  an  exposed  cabin,  where  lived  an  old  English  woman 
and  her  family.  The  doors  were  beaten  in,  and  the  inmates 
tomahawked.  On  a  neighboring  island  lived  an  Englishman 
named  Fisher.  In  a  few  moments  he,  too,  was  murdered. 

That  night,  while  the  garrison  watched  with  sleepless  appre 
hension,  the  whole  Ottawa  village  was  removed  to  that  side  of 
the  river  on  which  stood  the  fort.  "We  will  be  nearer  them," 
said  Pontiac.  A  messenger  arrived  at  the  fort  with  news.  Two 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONT  I  AC.  245 

Englishmen  had  been  murdered  on  Lake  St.  Glair,  and  Pontiac 
had  been  re-enforced  by  the  whole  war  strength  of  the  Ojibwas. 

The  garrison  passed  the  night  in  feverish  anxiety.  Not  till 
the  blush  of  dawn  tinged  the  eastern  sky  did  the  fierce  In 
dians,  yelling  with  infernal  power,  come  bounding  naked  to  the 
assault;  but  when  they  came  it  was  not  the  Ottawas  alone,  but 
the  Wyandots,  the  Pottawattamies  and  Ojibwas  as  well.  For 
six  hours  the  cautious  Indians,  from  behind  trees,  logs,  and 
cabins,  showered  their  rifle-balls  upon  the  fort  with  slight  effect; 
and  for  the  same  time  the  garrison  ineffectually  returned  the 
compliment.  When  the  disappointed  savages  withdrew,  Glad- 
wyn,  believing  the  affair  ended,  dispatched  La  Butte,  a  neutral 
interpreter,  accompanied  by  two  old  Canadians,  to  open  negoti- 
tions.  Numbers  of  the  Canadian  inhabitants  took  this  oppor 
tunity  of  leaving  the  place. 

Pontiac  received  the  three  ambassadors  politely,  and  heard 
their  offers  of  peace  with  apparent  acquiescence.  La  Butte 
hastened  back  to  the  fort,  reporting  that  a  few  presents  would 
fix  up  the  difficulty,  but  when  he  returned  to  Pontiac  he  found 
the  negotiation  had  made  no  progress.  After  a  consultation  with 
his  chiefs,  the  treacherous  Pontiac  said  that  he  desired  Major 
Campbell,  the  veteran  soldier,  second  in  command  at  the  fort,  to 
come.  When  the  word  reached  Campbell,  he  prepared  at  once 
to  go,  in  spite  of  Grladwyn's  fear  of  treachery.  The  officer's 
companion  was  Lieutenant  McDougal.  A  Canadian  met  them, 
and  warned  them  that  they  were  advancing  into  the  lion's  jaws, 
but  the  brave  officers  refused  to  turn  back. 

As  they  entered  the  camp,  a  howling  mob,  armed  with  clubs 
and  rocks,  surrounded  them,  but  Pontiac  quelled  the  tumult, 
and  conducted  them  to  the  council-house,  where  they  were  sur 
rounded  by  sinister  faces.  Campbell  made  his  speech.  There 
was  no  reply.  For  an  hour  he  waited  in  dead  silence  before 
the  steady  gaze  of  his  dark-browed  enemies.  Not  a  chief 
deigned  to  open  his  mouth. 

At  last  Campbell  rose  to  go.     Pontiac  made   an  imperious 


246  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

gesture  for  him  to  resume  his  seat.  "  My  father/'  said  the  wily 
traitor,  "  will  sleep  to-night  in  the  lodges  of  his  red  children." 
Campbell  expostulated,  he  argued  the  matter  to  Pontiac  with 
enforced  calmness.  Useless — he  was  a  captive.  Late  that 
night  La  Butte  returned  with  anxious  face  to  the  fort.  Some 
of  the  officers  suspected  him,  no  doubt  unjustly,  of  a  share  in 
the  treachery.  Feeling  the  suspicion,  he  stood  in  the  narrow 
street,  gloomy  and  silent,  refusing  all  efforts  at  conversation. 

Pontiac  proceeded  to  redistribute  his  forces.  One  band  hid 
in  ambush  along  the  river  below  the  fort.  Others  surrounded 
the  fort  on  the  land  side.  The  garrison  had  only  three  weeks' 
provisions.  The  Indians  intended  that  this  stock  should  not  be 
replenished.  Every  house  in  the  fort  was  searched  for  grease, 
tallow,  or  whatever  would  serve  for  food.  Whatever  was  found 
was  placed  in  the  public  storehouse. 

The  Indians,  unused  to  protracted  sieges,  also  suffered  from 
want  of  provisions.  The  Canadian  settlers  were  ruthlessly 
despoiled  of  their  stores.  Aggravated  beyond  endurance,  they 
complained  to  Pontiac.  He  heard  them.  After  that,  each  set 
tler  was  required  to  contribute  a  certain  quantity  of  food  daily 
to  the  Indians,  but  it  was  to  be  deposited  in  a  certain  place.  If 
any  Indian  entered  a  Canadian's  premises,  he  was  shot. 

These  dispositions  on  the  part  of  Pontiac  reveal  his  genius 
for  command.  He  was  an  Indian  Napoleon.  He  did  another 
thing.  After  he  had  visited  the  house  of  each  Canadian,  examined 
the  property,  and  assigned  the  amount  of  provision  to  be  fur 
nished  by  the  owner,  he  found  he  had  nothing  with  which  to  pay 
for  it.  In  this  emergency  he  hit  upon  a  remarkable  expedient. 
He  issued  promissory  notes,  drawn  upon  birch  bark,  and  signed 
with  the  figure  of  an  otter,  the  totem  to  which  he  belonged. 
These  notes  were  afterwards  faithfully  redeemed.  This  incident 
is  wonderful.  The  whole  principle  of  paper  money,  the  great 
resource  of  modern  statesmanship,  was  utilized  by  this  savage. 
It  was  an  issue  of  greenbacks — a  war  measure. 

Pontiac  kept  two  secretaries,  one  to  write  letters,  one  to  read 


MAJOR  CAMPBELL  ARGUING  WITH  PONTIAC. 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  249 

those  received.  Neither  secretary  knew  what  the  other  trans 
acted.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  Pontiac  maintained  his 
ascendancy  among  the  Indians  by  the  sheer  force  of  his  genius. 
Accident,  birth,  fortune,  laws,  institutions,  the  power  of  the 
government — all  these  things  which  make  and  help  the  leaders 
in  a  civilized  country,  were  wanting.  One  day  a  bottle  of 
whisky  was  sent  Pontiac  as  a  present  by  our  old  friend,  Rogers, 
of  Rogers's  Rangers,  who  was  in  the  fort.  His  counselors 
urged  him  to  let  it  alone,  for  fear  of  poison,  As  usual,  he 
listened  respectfully  to  them.  Then  he  at  once  drank  a  large 
cupful,  saying  the  man  had  no  power  to  kill  him. 

Weeks  rolled  by  with  no  change  in  the  situation.  Unawares 
of  any  trouble  at  Detroit,  the  British  commander-in-chief  at 
New  York,  had,  as  usual  in  the  spring,  sent  a  detachment  up 
the  lakes  with  food,  ammunition,  and  re-enforcements  for  the 
forts  along  the  lakes.  In  order  to  hasten  this  flotilla  the 
schooner  Gladwyn  was  dispatched  down  the  river.  On  the 
30th  of  May  some  faint  specks  appeared  on  the  watery  horizon. 
They  grew  larger  and  blacker.  The  sentry  in  the  bastion  called 
aloud  to  the  officers,  who  eagerly  ran  to  look  with  spy-glasses. 
They  recognized  the  banner  of  St.  George,  under  cover  of  which 
advanced  the  expected  fleet  of  canoes.  Quick,  joyous  com 
mands  were  given  for  a  salute  of  welcome. 

When  the  sound  of  the  booming  cannon  of  the  fort  died 
away,  every  ear  was  strained  to  catch  the  response.  It  came, 
faint  but  unmistakable — a  war-whoop,  and  not  a  salvo  of 
artillery.  The  faces  of  the  watchers  grew  pale.  The  approach 
ing  flotilla  was  watched  with  breathless  anxiety.  When  it  was 
well  in  view,  a  number  of  dark  and  savage  forms  rose  up  in  the 
leading  canoe.  The  truth  was  manifest.  The  flotilla  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  Indians.  In  the  foremost  of  the  eighteen 
canoes,  there  were  four  prisoners  and  only  three  Indians.  In 
each  of  the  others  there  were  more  savages  than  white  men. 
These  latter  were  forced  to  row. 

Just  as  the  leading  canoe  was  opposite  the  small  schooner, 


250  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

which  lay  at  anchor  before  the  fort,  one  of  the  white  men  was 
seen  to  seize  the  first  savage  by  the  hair  and  throw  him  over 
board.  The  Indian  clutched  his  adversary's  clothes,  and  stabbing 
him  again  and  again,  dragged  him  into  the  river,  and  locked  in 
a  death  embrace,  the  two  floated  down  the  stream.  The  two 
remaining  Indians  jumped  overboard,  while  the  prisoners  pulled 
desperately  toward  the  schooner,  which  they  succeded  in  reach 
ing,  amid  showers  of  bullets  from  the  pursuing  canoes. 

The  poor  fellows  told  the  story  of  their  misfortune.  After 
coasting  for  days,  without  seeing  a  sign  of  life,  the  soldiers  had 
landed  for  a  night  encampment,  when  they  were  surrounded  by 
savages,  and,  after  a  desperate  fight,  overpowered.  As  was 
afterwards  discovered,  only  three,  including  the  commander, 
Lieutenant  Cuyler,  escaped. 

The  Indians  besieging  Detroit  now  had  two  causes  for 
rejoicing.  One  was  the  whisky  of  which  the  canoes,  among 
other  supplies,  of  course,  brought  large  quantities  for  the  garri 
sons.  The  other  source  of  pleasure  was  the  captives.  Every 
Indian  took  his  choice,  either  to  become  drunk  with  liquor  or 
intoxicated  with  the  fiercer  frenzy  of  massacre.  It  was  a 
puzzling  alternative.  Many  chose  the  latter.  After  every 
species  of  torture  and  butchery,  the  poor,  mutilated  corpses 
were  thrown  into  the  river,  with  knives  sticking  in  their  hearts. 
Floating  past  the  fort,  they  were  seen  by  its  defenders.  The 
gloom  of  despair  settled  upon  them.  At  any  time  the  slender 

palisade  might  be  cut  or  burned  through,  and  then ! 

Throngs  of  Indians,  having  proceeded  to  get  blindly  drunk 
on  whisky,  sought  consolation  for  their  sorrow  at  not  being 
participants  in  the  massacre.  This  they  found  in  biting  off 
each  other's  noses,  a  cheerful  and  amusing  sport,  But  even 
this  hilarious  fun  grew  monotonous.  Then  they  organized  a 
massacre  of  their  own.  Having  no  captives  to  kill,  they  killed 
each  other. 

One  afternoon  the  famished  and  anxious  garrison  heard  the 
dismal  death-cry.  A  line  of  naked  warriors  extended  across  the 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  251 

plain.  Each  savage  was  painted  black,  and  carried  a  pole.  At 
the  end  of  the  poles  were  small,  fluttering  pennants.  An  officer 
ran  for  a  spy-glass.  The  pennants  were  discovered  to  be  the 
scalps  of  white  men.  What  had  happened  ? 

That  night  a  Canadian  crossed  the  river  to  the  fort,  bearing 
the  tidings.  Fort  Sandusky  was  about  seventy  miles  south 
east  of  Detroit.  Its  garrison  was  commanded  by  Ensign  Paully. 
About  dark,  on  the  evening  of  May  16th,  there  had  been  a 
knocking  at  the  gates.  It  proved  to  be  a  few  Indians.  It  was 
a  time  of  peace.  The  Indians  were  well  known  to  Paully. 
What  was  more  natural  than  to  admit  them  ?  The  dark  visitors 
were  seated  in  a  circle  in  the  council-house.  The  pipe  of  peace 
was  being  handed  from  mouth  to  mouth.  Suddenly  the  guests 
sprang  up,  and  in  a  hand  to  hand  conflict  butchered  or  over 
powered  the  garrison.  As  the  commander  was  hurried  away 
in  a  canoe,  he  saw  the  fort  wrapped  in  flames,  where  he  had, 
fifteen  minutes  before,  commanded  in  as  he  supposed  monotonous 
security. 

Twenty-five  miles  south  of  the  present  town  of  Erie,  then 
Presqu  'Isle,  stood  a  heavy  block-house,  known  as  Fort  Le  Bceuf. 
Simultaneously  with  the  treachery  at  Sandusky,  a  multitude  of 
howling  savages  surrounded  the  little  post.  By  means  of  blaz 
ing  arrows  the  roof  was  fired.  As  the  flames  swept  through 
the  structure,  the  savages  poured  in  a  continuous  storm  of  balls, 
expecting  each  moment  that  the  garrison  must  be  driven  from 
the  building. 

The  brave  men,  however,  chopped  a  hole  through  the  heavy 
logs  in  the  rear  of  the  building,  and  escaped,  while  the  Indians 
were  still  covering  the  doors  and  windows  with  their  guns.  The 
refugees  made  their  way  to  Fort  Venango,  to  find  only  a  heap 
of  red-hot  coals.  Of  this  post,  not  a  single  white  man  survived 
to  tellthe  story  of  its  fate.  Overcome  with  suffering  and  starva 
tion,  most  of  the  desolate  band  from  Le  Boeuf  perished.  Only 
seven  haggard  and  weary  men  succeeded  in  reaching  Fort  Pitt. 

The  magnitude  of  the  Pontiac  conspiracy  and  the   powers 


252  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

of  combination  which  its  creator  possessed  are  demonstrated  by 
the  widely  separated  points  at  which  the  smoldering  flames  of 
Indian  hostility  simultaneously  burst  through  the  thin  crust  of 
peace.  Fort  St.  Joseph  stood  on  the  river  of  that  name  near 
the  southern  shore  of  Lake  Michigan.  Here  the  priests  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  had,  for  many  years,  maintained^  rude 
temple  of  worship.  Here,  in  the  solitude  of  the  wilderness,  the 
toil-worn  fathers  labored,  without  recompense,  to  plant  in  the 
savage  heart  the  germ  of  Christian  faith. 

One  May  morning  a  crowd  of  Indians  pushed  their  way  into 
the  fort  under  various  pretexts.  At  a  sudden  signal,  they  ran 
to  the  gates,  tomahawked  the  sentinels,  and  threw  them  open  to 
a  host  of  savages  without.  The  little  baud  of  fourteen  soldiers 
made  a  fluttering  attempt  to  rally,  but  in  less  than  two  minutes, 
as  an  eye-witness  says,  eleven  of  them  were  corpses,  and  the  re 
maining  three  made  captives. 

Everywhere  the  Indian  attack  was  made  by  stratagem  and 
treachery.  Everywhere  their  devilish  ingenuity  was  successful. 
Fort  Ouatanon,  situated  on  the  Wabash  river,  a  short  distance 
below  the  present  flourishing  and  aristocratic  city  of  Lafayette, 
was  captured  in  this  way.  The,  Indians,  however,  did  not 
massacre  the  garrison.  They  were  merely  made  captives. 
About  midway  between  Sandusky,  St.  Joseph,  and  Ouatanon, 
that  is,  about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  or  fifty  miles  from 
each  of  them,  on  the  Maumee  river,  stood  another  one  of  these 
lonely  and  isolated  wilderness  posts — Fort  Miami. 

One  morning  an  Indian  girl,  a  favorite  of  the  commanding 
officer,  Holmes,  came  to  the  fort.  Unlike  the  Ojibwa  maid  at 
Detroit,  this  girl  came  to  lure  her  lover  into  a  trap.  An  old 
squaw,  she  said,  was  lying  sick  in  a  wigwam,  a  short  distance 
from  the  fort,  and  she  begged  Holmes  to  come  and  see  if  he 
could  do  any  thing  for  her.  The  unsuspecting  officer  yielded  to 
the  request.  As  he  entered  the  lodge  where  the  sick  squaw  was 
supposed  to  lie,  a  dozen  rifles  were  discharged,  and  he  fell  dead. 
A  sergeant,  hearing  the  shots,  ran  out  of  the  fort  to  see*  what 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  253 

was  the  matter,  and  met  a  similar  fate.  The  panic-stricken  gar 
rison,  possessing  no  longer  a  leader,  threw  open  the  gates  and 
surrendered. 

The  news  of  these  disasters  poured  in  thick  and  fast  upon 
the  horror-stricken  garrison  at  Detroit.  It  seemed  to  them  that 
the  whole  fabric  of  English  supremacy  in  the  wilderness  was 
falling  around  them.  In  the  great  San  Domingo  insurrection 
of  slaves,  Toussaint  L'Ouverture,  their  great  leader,  took  a  cup 
full  of  gunpowder,  and  placed  a  few  grains  of  rice  on  top. 
Showing  it  to  his  officers,  he  said :  "  The  black  grains  of  powder 
are  the  multitudes  of  negroes  on  the  island.  The  few  white 
grains  of  rice  on  top  are  the  few  white  men  who  are  our 
masters."  Shaking  the  cup,  the  rice  was  quickly  overwhelmed 
and  covered  by  the  powder.  "  This,"  said  he,  "  is  the  negro 
rebellion."  The  illustration  applies  equally  to  the  situation  of 
the  defenders  of  Detroit '  at  the  time  of  which  we  write.  But 
the  worst  news  was  yet  to  come. 

Fort  Presqu  'Isle,  standing  near  the  present  site  of  Erie, 
was  constructed  on  the  lake  shore,  at  the  mouth  of  a  small 
brook.  At  one  angle  of  the  fort  was  a  heavy  block-house.  Its 
roof  was  of  bark,  and  easily  fired,  but  on  the  comb  was  an 
opening,  with  a  small  bulwark  of  plank,  where  the  guard  could, 
from  behind  this  partial  protection,  pour  water  on  the  flames. 
One  lovely  June  morning,  just  as  the  rising  sun  shot  his  hori 
zontal  rays  far  across  the  blue  expanse  of  Erie,  tipping  each 
wave  with  gold,  hideous  yells  broke  the  silence  of  the  lonely 
spot.  The  soldiers,  catching  the  alarm,  ran  to  the  block-house. 

Two  hundred  Indians  had  surrounded  the  post,  and  from  be 
hind  some  neighboring  ridges  of  land  discharged  their  guns  at 
every  opening  visible  in  the  walls  of  the  block-house.  In  a 
short  time  fire  arrows  were  showered  on  the  roof.  Again  and 
again  it  burst  into  flames.  Again  and  again  they  were  extin 
guished.  The  tireless  savages  rolled  logs  to  the  summit  of  the 
ridges,  and  from  these  loftier  barricades  were  enabled  to  com 
mand  every  point  in  the  parade  ground.  Hour  after  hour  the 

14 


254  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

soldiers  returned  the  shots  of  the  savages.  About  two  o'clock 
the  besiegers  could  be  seen  throwing  up  vast  heaps  of  earth  and 
stone  behind  their  breastworks.  What  did  it  mean?  A  mine? 

The  garrison  had  no  time  to  speculate  on  this  problem.  A 
more  pressing  danger  was  at  hand.  It  was  no  longer  possible 
to  procure  water  from  the  well  in  the  parade  ground.  The 
water  barrels  in  the  block-house  were  almost  empty.  Yet 
almost  every  moment  the  flames  curled  upward  from  the  bark 
roof.  The  only  resource  was  to  dig  a  well  in  the  block-house. 
While  a  part  of  the  men  discharged  their  heated  muskets  from 
the  port-holes,  the  rest,  with  a  strength  inspired  by  the  emer 
gency,  dug  a  hole  in  the  ground.  Before  the  well  was  finished 
the  last  drop  of  water  was  poured  on  the  roof.  It  caught  again. 
A  soldier  said,  "  I  will  put  it  out."  He  crawled  out  on  the  roof, 
amid  a  storm  of  balls,  and  tore  the  blazing  shingle  from  its 
place. 

Night  came,  but  it  brought  little  respite  for  the  worn  men. 
Some  slept,  while  the  others  watched.  All  night  long  the  flash 
of  the  enemy's  guns  startled  the  darkness.  By  morning  the  well 
was  finished.  It  was  fortunate!  The  savages  had  dug  a  mine 
to  the  commandant's  cabin,  which  stood  in  the  parade-ground. 
The  building  was  fired.  So  close  did  it  stand  to  the  block 
house,  that  the  walls  of  the  latter  scorched,  blackened,  then 
burst  into  flames.  Still  the  men  passed  water  up  from  the 
well,  and  choked  and  blinded  with  the  hot,  sulphurous  air  of 
their  wooden  redoubt,  fought  with  all  the  fury  of  the  first 
repulse. 

All  day  the  storm  raged,  and  nightfall  brought  no  interrup 
tion.  At  midnight  there  was  a  sudden  lull  in  the  Indian  fire.  In 
a  moment  a  voice  was  heard  from  the  breastworks,  calling  for  a 
surrender,  saying  that  the  speaker  was  an  Englishman,  who  had 
been  taken  captive  in  childhood,  and.  had  espoused  the  Indian 
cause;  that  the  besiegers  had  now  completed  a  mine  to  the 
block-house  itself,  making  its  destruction  certain ;  that  a  surren 
der  would  save  the  garrison's  lives,  while  further  resistance 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  255 

would  result  in  certain  death.  At  daybreak,  the  pale  and  hag 
gard  defenders  of  the  block-house  looking,  after  their  fiery 
ordeal,  almost  like  blackened  specters,  marched  out  and  surren 
dered.  They  were  made  captive,  but  not  massacred. 

The  news  at  Detroit  of  the  fall  of  Presqu  'Isle  was  only 
surpassed  in  tragic  importance  by  that  of  the  fall  of  Michilli- 
mackinac. 

The  pleasure  seeker  who  spends  a  summer  on  the  lovely 
Island  of  Mackinaw,  with  its  white  cliffs,  its  piny  woods,  its 
"  Tower  Rock,"  and  "  Devil's  Kitchen,"  its  old  fort  and  venera 
ble  hotels,  its  meandering  drives,  and  all  the  quiet  scenes  which 
go  to  make  up  the  Mackinaw  of  to-day,  is  impressed  with  a 
sense  of  its  antiquity.  The  prevailing  air  of  decay,  the  old- 
time  buildings  of  the  Old  Mission  and  Island  House  hotels,  the 
quaint  manners  of  the  resident  population,  the  rotting  sail  boats, 
which  lie  at  abandoned  wharves,  all  tend  to  make  this  impression. 

The  old  fort  looks  as  if  it  had  been  built  in  some  remote 
age.  Every  thing  is  antique,  quiet,  un-American.  Our  summer 
traveler  is  completely  shut  in  from  the  roar  and  bustle  of  the 
busy  world.  Mails  come  twice  a  week,  or  rather  did  a  year  or 
two  ago,  when  the  writer  spent  a  summer  there.  The  only 
event  of  the  day  is  the  arrival  of  some  steamer.  One  feels  as 
if  the  clock  had  been  turned  back  a  hundred  years. 

Drinking  in  the  pure  and  bracing  atmosphere,  indulging  in 
such  quiet  sports  as  the  place  affords,  he  soon  learns  to  love 
the  island.  Sometimes  he  spends  a  day  in  fishing.  More  often 
he  wanders  with  some  friends  through  the  woods.  Now  he 
joins  his  lady  friends,  and  visiting  the  few  little  stores,  inspects 
the  stocks  of  Indian  ware.  Birch  bark  canoes,  from  six  inches 
to  three  feet  long,  pipes,  bows  and  arrows,  birch  baskets,  all 
these  he  finds  in  immense  quantities. 

Lower  down  on  the  island  he  will  find  the  shanties  of  the 
Indians  who  manufacture  these  articles.  Stolid,  copper-colored 
men,  with  straight,  black  hair,  everlastingly  smoking  tobacco 
pipes,  lounge  around  on  benches  in  the  open  air  on  a  summer 


256  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

day.  Now  and  then  a  grunt  or  a  guttural  ejaculation  breaks 
the  silence.  That  is  all.  They  look  sullen  and  sad.  Too 
infinitely  lazy  to  do  any  work,  they  seem  simply  to  be  waiting, 
waiting  the  extinction  of  their  race.  Yet  these  are  the  descend 
ants  of  the  fierce  Ojibwas,  whose  principal  village  occupied  the 
Island  of  Mackinaw  in  the  year  1763. 

So  the  air  of  antiquity  which  hangs  about  Mackinaw  is  an 
illusion.  In  1763  no  white  man  resided  on  the  island.  It  was 
the  home  of  the  terrible  Ojibwa  chief.  Fifteen  miles  to  the 
south,  across  the  beautiful  straits,  in  which  the  blue  waters  of 
Michigan  meet  and  mingle  with  the  fresh  tides  of  Huron,  near 
the  site  of  old  Mackinaw,  stood  the  fort  of  Michillimackinac,  at 
the  time  of  which  we  write. 

This  post  was  in  1763  nearly  a  hundred  years  old,  while  the 
Island  of  Mackinaw  was  yet  only  the  seat  of  an  Indian  town. 
Parkman  describes  the  post  as  it  was  on  the  eventful  morning 
of  June  4,  1763.  The  houses  and  barracks,  containing  thirty 
families,  and  a  garrison  of  thirty-five  men,  were  arranged  in  a 
square,  inclosing  a  considerable  area.  Outside  of  this  square 
was  a  larger  one,  formed  by  the  high  palisades.  "In  the  vacant 
space  inclosed  by  the  houses,  appeared  the  red  uniforms  of 
British  soldiers,  the  gray  coats  of  Canadians,  and  the  gaudy 
blankets  of  Indians,  mingled  in  picturesque  confusion.  Women 
and  children  were  moving  about  the  doors;  knots  of  Canadian 
voyagers  reclined  on  the  ground,  smoking  and  conversing; 
soldiers  were  lounging  listlessly  at  the  doors  and  windows  of 
the  barracks,  or  strolling  in  undress  about  the  area." 

There  was  absolutely  no  suspicion  of  danger.  Yet  the  gar 
rison  had  had  warnings  plain  enough  to  put  the  British  on  their 
guard.  Several  Canadians  had  warned  them  that  the  Indians 
were  plotting  their  destruction.  The  commander  of  the  fort, 
Captain  Etherington,  did  not  overlook  these  warnings.  He 
threatened  to  send  the  next  alarmist  in  chains  to  Detroit !  Only 
the  day  before  the  tragic  fourth  of  June  an  .Indian  named 
Wawatam,  who  had  taken  a  fancy  to  Alexander  Henry,  a  trader, 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  257 

who  was  in  the  fort,  came .  over  and  first  advised,  then  urged, 
and  finally  begged  Henry,  on  his  knees,  to  leave  the  fort  that 
night.  In  vain ! 

All  that  day  unusual  throngs  of  Indians  had  visited  the 
fort.  Their  special  demand  was  for  guns,  hatchets,  and  knives. 
Valuable  articles  of  jewelry  were  also  called  for,  the  place  of  their 
keeping  carefully  marked,  and  then  the  treacherous  customers 
would  leave,  saying,  "We  will  call  to-morrow."  This  remark 
was  deeply  significant.  What  was  the  real  state  of  affairs? 

The  news  of  Pontiac's  attack  on  Detroit,  at  the  head  of  the 
Ottawas  and  their  neighbors,  had  inflamed  the  Ojibwas  of  Mack 
inaw.  With  the  exception  of  the  tribes  around  Detroit,  the 
State  of  Michigan  was  occupied  by  the  Ottawas  and .  Ojibwas. 
Their  territory  was  separated  about  equally  by  a  line  running 
south  from  Michillimackinac.  The  western,  or  Ottawa,  tribe 
had  their  principal  village,  L'Arbre  Croche,  on  what  is  now 
Little  Traverse  Bay.  At  the  head  of  this  lovely  inlet  now 
stands  the  bustling  town  of  Petosky,  while  a  pocket  in  the 
shore  of  the  bay  forms  a  quiet  harbor  which  the  wildest  storm 
scarcely  ripples.  The  spot  where  now  stands  the  microscopic 
settlement  of  Harbor  Springs  was  once  occupied  by  the  popu 
lous  lodges  of  the  Ottawas. 

The  original  plan  was  for  the  warriors  of  L'Arbre  Croche  to 
unite  with  the  Ojibwas  of  Mackinaw  in  the  attack  on  the  fort. 
But  so  jealous  were  the  latter  that  they  resolved  on  carrying 
out  the  plot  without  telling  their  neighbors. 

The  scene  outside  the  fort  on  the  morning  of  June  4,  1763, 
was  quite  different  from  that  we  have  described  within  the 
palisade.  The  plain  in  front  was  covered  by  throngs  of  Indians 
engaged  in  ball  playing.  The  gates  of  the  palisade  were  wide 
open.  Groups  of  soldiers  stood  in  the  shade  of  the  palisade 
looking  at  the  sport.  Most  of  them  were  without  their  arms. 
Sober  Indian  chiefs  stood  as  if  intently  watching  the  fortunes 
of  the  game.  In  fact,  however,  their  thoughts  were  far  other 
wise  employed.  Large  numbers  of  squaws  also  mingled  in  the 


258  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

throng,  collecting  chiefly  near  the  open  gates.  In  spite  of  the 
warm  day  they  were  wrapped  to  the  throat  in  blankets.  The 
game  of  ball  or  baggattaway  was  between  the  Ojibwas  and  the 
neighboring  Sacs.  At  either  extremity  of  the  open  ground 
stood  a  post,  which  constituted  the  station  of  one  of  the  parties. 
Except  that  the  ball  was  smaller  and  that  a  bat  much  like  those 
used  in  lawn  tennis  served  instead  of  the  kick,  the  game  was 
identical  with  our  well  known  foot-ball. 

The  ball  was  started  from  the  middle  of  the  ground,  and  the 
game  was  for  each  side  to  keep  it  from  touching  their  own  post, 
and  drive  it  against  that  of  their  adversaries.  The  game  was 
played  on  this  morning  with  unprecedented  fury  and  abandon. 
Hundreds  of  naked  Indians  were  running,  jumping,  bounding 
over  each  other,  turning  hand-springs,  executing  aerial  somer 
saults,  striking  with  the  bats,  tripping  each  other  up,  every 
way,  any  way,  to  get  at  the  ball  and  foil  the  adversary.  Now 
they  surged  together  in  a  knotted  mass,  struggling  furiously  for 
the  ball;  now  the  sphere  rose  high  in  air,  with  the  players 
bounding  after  it  like  hounds,  with  hilarious  uproar. 

Suddenly  the  ball  rose  high,  and  descending  in  a  wide  curve, 
fell  near  the  gate.  It  was  no  chance  stroke.  The  players 
instantly  bounded  toward  the  ball,  but  just  as  they  reached  the 
neighborhood  of  the  gates  the  shouts  of  sport  changed  suddenly 
to  the  ominous  war-whoop.  The  squaws  threw  open  their 
blankets,  and  withdrawing  therefrom  guns,  hatchets,  and  knives, 
the  players  instantly  flung  away  their  bats,  seized  the  weapons, 
and  fell  upon  the  defenseless  garrison  and  traders.  Fifteen  of 
the  garrison  were  butchered  outright. 

The  story  of  Alexander  Henry,  the  trader,  is  full  of  interest. 
At  the  time  the  war-whoop  was  raised,  he  was  in  his  room  writ 
ing  letters. 

"  Going  instantly  to  my  window,  I  saw  a  crowd  of  Indians 
within  the  fort,  furiously  cutting  down  and  scalping  every 
Englishman  they  found. 

"I  had  in  the  room  in  which  I  was  a  fowling-piece,  loaded 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  259 

with  swan-shot.  This  I  immediately  seized,  and  held  it  for  a 
few  minutes,  waiting  to  hear  the  drum  beat  to  arms.  In  this 
dreadful  interval  I  saw  several  of  my  countrymen  fall,  and  more 
than  one  struggling  between  the  knees  of  an  Indian,  who,  hold 
ing  him  in  this  manner,  scalped  him  while  yet  living. 

"At  length,  disappointed  in  the  hope  of  seeing  resistance 
made  to  the  enemy,  and  sensible,  of  course,  that  no  effort  of  my 
own  unassisted  arm  could  avail  against  four  hundred  Indians,  I 
thought  only  of  seeking  shelter.  Amid  the  slaughter  which 
was  raging,  I  observed  many  of  the  Canadian  inhabitants  of  the 
fort  calmly  looking  on,  neither  opposing  the  Indians,  nor  suffer 
ing  injury;  and  from  this  circumstance  I  conceived  a  hope  of 
finding  security  in  their  houses. 

"Between  the  yard-door  of  my  own  house  and  that  of  M. 
Langlade,  my  next  neighbor,  there  was  only  a  low  fence,  over 
which  I  easily  climbed.  At  my  entrance  I  found  the  whole 
family  at  the  windows,  gazing  at  the  scene  of  blood  before  them. 
I  addressed  myself  immediately  to  M.  Langlade,  begging  that 
he  would  put  me  into  some  place  of  safety,  until  the  heat  of 
the  affair  should  be  over,  an  act  of  charity  by  which  he  might 
perhaps  preserve  me  from  the  general  massacre ;  but  while  I 
uttered  my  petition,  M.  Langlade,  who  had  looked  for  a  moment 
at  me,  turned  again  to  the  window,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  and 
intimating  that  he  could  do  nothing  for  me, — 'Que  voudriez-vous 
que  fen  ferais  ? 

"This  was  a  moment  for  despair;  but  the  next,  a  Pani 
woman,*  a  slave  of  M.  Langlade's,  beckoned  to  me  to  follow 
her.  She  brought  me  to  a  door,  which  she  opened,  desiring  me 
to  enter,  and  telling  me  that  it  led  to  the  garret,  where  I  must 
go  and  conceal  myself.  I  joyfully  obeyed  her  directions ;  and 
she,  having  followed  me  up  to  the  garret-door,  locked  it  after 
me,  and  with  great  presence  of  mind  took  away  the  key. 

"This  shelter  obtained,  if  shelter  I  could  hope  to  find  it,  I 

*  Usually  written  Pawnee.  This  tribe  lived  west  of  the  Mississippi,  and  was 
frequently  at  war  with  the  northern  nations.  This  woman  was  a  captive  of  war. 


260  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

was  naturally  anxious  to  know  what  might  still  be  passing  with 
out.  Through  an  aperture,  which  afforded  me  a  view  of  the 
area  of  the  fort,  I  beheld,  in  shapes  the  foulest  and  most  ter 
rible,  the  ferocious  triumphs  of  barbarian  conquerors. 

"  The  dead  were  scalped  and  mangled ;  the  dying  were  writh 
ing  and  shrieking  under  the  unsatiated  knife  and -tomahawk; 
and  from  the  bodies  of  some,  ripped  open,  their  butchers  were 
drinking  the  blood,  scooped  up  in  the  hollow  of  joined  hands, 
and  quaffed  amid  shouts  of  rage  and  victory.  I  was  shaken  not 
only  with  horror,  but  with  fear.  The  sufferings  which  I  wit 
nessed,  I  seemed  on  the  point  of  experiencing.  No  long  time 
elapsed  before,  every  one  being  destroyed  who  could  be  found, 
there  was  a  general  cry  of  'All  is  finished !'  At  the  same 
instant  I  heard  some  of  the  Indians  enter  the  house  in  which 
I  was. 

"The  garret  was  separated  from  the  room  below  only  by  a 
layer  of  single  boards,  at  once  the  flboring  of  the  one  and  the 
ceiling  of  the  other.  I  could  therefore  hear  every  thing  that 
passed;  and  the  Indians  no  sooner  came  in  than  they  inquired 
whether  or  not  any  Englishmen  were  in  the  house.  M.  Lang-' 
lade  replied  that  'he  could  not  say;  he  did  not  know  of  any;' 
answers  in  which  he  did  not  exceed  the  truth ;  for  the  Pani 
woman  had  not  only  hidden  me  by  stealth,  but  kept  my  secret 
and  her  own.  M.  Langlade  was  therefore,  as  I  presume,  as  far 
from  a  wish  to  destroy  me  as  he  was  careless  about  saving  me, 
when  he  'added  to  these  answers,  that  '  they  might  examine  for 
themselves,  and  would  soon  be  satisfied  as  to  the  object  of  their 
question.'  Saying  this,  he  brought  them  to  the  garret-door. 

"  The  state  of  my  mind  will  be  imagined.  Arrived  at  the 
door,  some  delay  was  occasioned  by  the  absence  of  the  key, 
and  a  few  moments  were  thus  allowed  me  in  which  to  look 
around  for  a  hiding-place.  In  one  corner  of  the  garret  was  a 
heap  of  those  vessels  of  birch-bark,  used  in  maple-sugar  making, 
as  I  have  recently  described. 

"The    door    was    unlocked    and    opening,   and    the    Indians 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  261 

ascending  the  stairs,  before  I  had  completely  crept  into  a  small 
opening  which  presented  itself  at  one  end  of  the  heap.  An 
instant  after,  four  Indians  entered  the  room,  all  armed  with 
tomahawks,  and  all  besmeared  with  blood  upon  every  part  of 
their  bodies. 

"  The  die  appeared  to  be  cast.  I  could  scarcely  breathe ;  but 
I  thought  that  the  throbbing  of  my  heart  occasioned  a  noise 
loud  enough  to  betray  me.  The  Indians  walked  in  every  direc 
tion  about  the  garret,  and  one  of  them  approached  me  so  closely 
that  at  a  particular  moment,  had  he  put  forth  his  hand,  he  must 
have  touched  me.  Still  I  remained  undiscovered ;  a  circum 
stance  to  which  the  dark  color  of  my  clothes,  and  the  want  of 
light  in  a  room  which  had  no  window,  and  in  the  corner  in 
which  I  was,  must  have  contributed.  In  a  word,  after  taking 
several  turns  in  the  room,  during  which  they  told  M.  Langlade 
how  many  they  had  killed,  and  how  many  scalps  they  had 
taken,  they  returned  down  stairs,  and  I,  with  sensations  not  to 
be  expressed,  heard  the  door,  which  was  the  barrier  between 
me  and  my  fate,  locked  for  the  second  time. 

"  There  was  a  feather-bed  on  the  floor ;  and  on  this,  exhausted 
as  I  was  by  the  agitation  of  my  mind,  I  threw  myself  down  and 
fell  asleep.  In  this  state  I  remained  till  the  dusk  of  the  even 
ing,  when  I  was  awakened  by  a  second  opening  of  the  door. 
The  person  that  now  entered  was  M.  Langlade's  wife,  who  was 
much  surprised  at  finding  me,  but  advised  me  not  to  be  uneasy, 
observing  that  the  Indians  had  killed  most  of  the  English,  but 
that  she  hoped  I  might  myself  escape.  A  shower  of  rain  hav 
ing  begun  to  fall,  she  had  come  to  stop  a  hole  in  the  roof.  On 
her  going  away,  I  begged  her  to  send  me  a  little  water  to  drink, 
which  she  did. 

"As  night  was  now  advancing,  I  continued  to  lie  on  the  bed, 
ruminating  on  my  condition,  but  unable  to  discover  a  resource 
from  which  I  could  hope  for  life.  A  flight  to  Detroit  had  no 
probable  chance  of  success.  The  distance  from  Michillimacki- 
nac  was  four  hundred  miles;  I  was  without  provisions;  and  the 


262  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

whole  length  of  the  road  lay  through  Indian  countries,  countries 
of  an  enemy  in  arms,  where  the  first  man  whom  I  should  meet 
would  kill-  me.  To  stay  where  I  was,  threatened  nearly  the 
same  issue.  As  before,  fatigue  of  mind,  and  not  tranquillity, 
suspended  my  cares,  and  procured  me  further  sleep, 

"  The  respite  which  sleep  afforded  me  during  the  night  was 
put  an  end  to  by  the  return  of  morning.  I  was  again  on  the 
rack  of  apprehension.  At  sunrise  I  heard  the  family  stirring, 
and  presently  after  Indian  voices,  informing  M.  Langlade  that 
they  had  not  found  my  hapless  self  among  the  dead,  and  that 
they  supposed  me  to  be  somewhere  concealed.  M.  Langlade 
appeared,  from  what  followed,  to  be  by  this  time  acquainted 
with  the  place  of  my  retreat,  of  which,  no  doubt,  he  had  been 
informed  by  his  wife.  The  poor  woman,  as  soon  as  the  Indians 
mentioned  me,  declared  to  her  husband,  in  the  French  tongue, 
that  he  should  no  longer  keep  me  in  his  house,  but  deliver  me 
up  to  my  pursuers ;  giving  as  a  reason  for  this  measure,  that, 
should  the  Indians  discover  his  instrumentality  in  my  conceal 
ment,  they  might  revenge  it  on  her  children,  and  that  it  was 
better  that  I  should  die  than  they. 

"  M.  Langlade  resisted  at  first  this  sentence  of  his  wife's,  but 
soon  suffered  'her  to  prevail,  informing  the  Indians  that  he  had 
been  told  I  was  in  his  house,  that  I  had  come  there  without 
his  knowledge,  and  that  he  would  put  me  into  their  hands. 
This  was  no  sooner  expressed  than  he  began  to  ascend  the 
stairs,  the  Indians  following  upon  his  heels. 

"  I  now  resigned  myself  to  the  fate  with  which  I  was  men 
aced,  and  regarding  every  attempt  at  concealment  as  vain,  I 
arose  from  the  bed,  and  presented  myself  full  in  view  to 
the  Indians  who  were  entering  the  room.  They  were  all  in 
a  state  of  intoxication,  and  entirely  naked,  except  about  the 
middle. 

"  One  of  them,  named  Wenniway,  whom  I  had  previously 
known,  and  who  was  upward  of  six  feet  in  height,  had  his 
entire  face  and  body  entirely  covered  with  charcoal  and  grease, 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  263 

only  that  a  white  spot,  of  two  inches  in  diameter,  encircled 
either  eye.  This  man,  walking  up  to  me,  seized  me  with  one 
hand  by  the  collar  of  the  coat,  while,  in  the  other,  he  held  a 
large  carving-knife,  as  if  to  plunge  it  into  my  breast.  His  eyes, 
meanwhile,  were  fixed  steadfastly  on  mine.  At  length,  after 
some  seconds  of  the  most  anxious  suspense,  he  dropped  his  arm, 
saying,  '  I  won't  kill  you !'  To  this  he  added  that  he  had  been 
frequently  engaged  in  wars  against  the  English,  and  had  brought 
away  many  scalps ;  that  on  a  certain  occasion  he  had  lost  a 
brother,  whose  name  was  Musinigon,  and  that  I  should  be  called 
after  him. 

"A  reprieve  upon  any  terms  placed  me  among  the  living, 
and  gave  me  back  the  sustaining  voice  of  hope ;  but  Wenniway 
ordered  me  down  stairs,  and  there  informing  me  that  I  was  to 
be  taken  to  his  cabin,  where,  and  indeed  everywhere  else,  the 
Indians  were  all  mad  with  liquor,  death  again  was  threatened, 
and  not  as  possible  only,  but  as  certain.  I  mentioned  my  fears 
on  this  subject  to  M.  Langlade,  begging  him  to  represent  the 
danger  to  my  master.  M.  Langlade,  in  this  instance,  did  not 
withhold  his  compassion,  and  Wenniway  immediately  consented 
that  I  should  remain  where  I  was,  until  he  found  another  oppor 
tunity  to  take  me  away.  Thus  far  secure,  I  re-ascended  my 
garret-stairs,  in  order  to  place  myself  the  farthest  possible  out 
of  the  reach  of  drunken  Indians." 

In  an  hour  a  rough  voice  again  summoned  Henry  from  his 
hiding-place.  The  savage  ordered  him  to  strip,  and  then  follow 
him.  The  fellow  owed  Henry  for  some  goods,  and  as  he 
carried  a  dangerous  knife,  Henry  feared  that  he  was  to  be 
murdered.  The  Indian  conducted  his  prisoner  some  distance, 
when  Henry,  finding  that  their  way  led  to  a  lonely  and  hidden 
spot  behind  some  sandhills,  stopped  and  told  the  Indian  he 
believed  it  was  a  plot  to  murder  him.  The  savage  coolly  replied 
that  it  was,  and  raising  his  knife,  was  about  to  suit  the  action 
to  the  word,  when  Henry  turned  and  ran  with  all  his  might  to 
the  fort.  The  savage  followed  with  uplifted  knife,  but  the 


264  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

trader  regained  the  house  from  which  he  had  been  taken,  and 
the  pursuit  was  abandoned. 

The  next  morning  Henry,  with  two  other  prisoners,  was 
placed  in  a  canoe,  to  be  taken  by  several  Indians  to  the  Isles 
du  Castor.  When  well  out  of  the  straits  and  into  Lake  Mich 
igan,  a  heavy  fog  and  stormy  weather  caused  them  to  hug  the 
gloomy  coast.  When  within  twenty  miles  of  L'Arbre  Croche, 
a  hundred  Indians  suddenly  jumped  out  of  the  woods  into  the 
surf,  dragged  the  canoe  ashore,  and  while  making  captives  of 
the  guards,  explained  to  the  three  Englishmen  that  their  lives 
had  been  saved  by  the  Ottawas,  as  the  Ojibwas  were  going  to 
eat  them.  In  a  short  time  the  Ottawas  embarked  for  the  fort, 
and  Henry  started  back,  arriving  at  Michillimackinac,  the 
Ottawas  coolly  took  possession  of  the  fort  and  proceeded  to 
abuse  the  Ojibwas  for  springing  the  trap  without  notifying  their 
brothers.  Henry  hoped  to  be  freed,  but  the  two  tribes  patched 
up  the  quarrel,  and  he  again  found  himself  a  prisoner  of  the 
Ojibwas. 

The  latter  removed  the  disappointed  man  to  a  neighbor 
town.  Here,  by  strange  good  fortune,  the  trader  met  his  friend 
Wawatam,  who  had  given  the  unheeded  warning.  The  Indian 
possessed  more  than  the  ordinary  nobility  of  the  human  heart. 
He  at  once  asked  the  council  to  set  his  friend  free,  and  his  elo 
quent  appeal  was  emphasized  at  every  pause  by  presents,  which 
literally  impoverished  the  savage.  His  request  was  granted, 
and  Henry  found  himself  established  in  an  Indian  family,  on  the 
footing  of  a  brother  of  Wawatam. 

On  the  morning  following  his  release,  Henry,  whose  fears 
were  by  no  means  quieted,  was  alarmed  by  a  noise  in  the  prison 
lodge  from  which  he  had  been  removed.  "Looking  through  the 
openings  of  the  lodge  in  which  I  was,  I  saw  seven  dead  bodies  of 
white  men  dragged  forth.  Upon  my  inquiry  into  the  occasion, 
I  was  informed  that  a  certain  chief,  called  by  the  Canadians  Le 
Grand  Sable,  had  not  long  before  arrived  from  his  winter's 
hunt;  and  that  he,  having  been  absent  when  the  war  began, 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  265 

and  being  now  desirous  of  manifesting  to  the  Indians  at  large 
his  hearty  concurrence  in  what  they  had  done,  had  gone  into 
the  prison-lodge,  and  there  with  his  knife  put  the  seven  men 
whose  bodies  I  had  seen,  to  death. 

"  Shortly  after,  two  of  the  Indians  took  one  of  the  dead 
bodies,  which  they  chose  as  being  the  fattest,  cut  off  the  head, 
and  divided  the  whole  into  five  parts,  one  of  which  was  put  into 
each  of  five  kettles,  hung  over  as  many  fires,  kindled  for  this 
purpose,  at  the  door  of  the  prison-lodge.  Soon  after  things 
were  so  far  prepared,  a  message  came  to  our  lodge,  with  an  invi 
tation  to  Wawatam  to  assist  at  the  feast.  An  invitation  to  a 
feast  is  given  by  him  who  is  the  master  of  it.  Small  cuttings 
of  cedar  wood,  of  about  four  inches  in  length,  supply  the  place 
of  cards;  and  the  bearer  by  word  of  mouth  states  the  particulars. 

"Wawatam  obeyed  the  summons,  taking  with  him,  as  is 
usual,  to  the  place  of  entertainment,  his  dish  and  spoon. 

"After  an  absence  of  about  half  an  hour,  he  returned,  bring 
ing  in  his  dish  a  human  hand,  and  a  large  piece  of  flesh.  He 
did  not  appear  to  relish  the  repast,  but  told  me  that  it  was  then 
and  always  had  been  the  custom  among  all  the  Indian  nations, 
when  returning  from  war,  or  on  overcoming  their  enemies,  to 
make  a  war-feast  from  among  the  slain.  This  he  said  inspired 
the  warrior  with  courage  in  attack,  and  bred  him  to  meet  death 
with  fearlessness." 

Soon  after  this  agreeable  information,  Henry  learned  that 
the  Indians  were  going  to  remove  to  the  Island  of  Mackinaw, 
which  was  accordingly  done.  One  day  the  Indians  captured  a 
couple  of  canoes  from  Montreal,  carrying  a  quantity  of  liquor. 
The  savages  began  to  drink  heavily,  a  proceeding  full  of  danger 
to  every  one  near.  Wawatam  told  Henry  that  he  was  bound  to 
get  drunk,  and  that  it  would  not  be  safe  for  the  Englishman  to 
remain  where  he  was  during  the  debauch.  Wawatam  therefor 
conducted  him  to  a  cave  in  the  center  of  the  island,  where  he 
was  to  hide  himself  until  the  liquor  was  all  gone. 

Henry  broke  some  branches  from  the  trees,  and  spreading 


266  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

them  down  in  a  corner  of  the  cave  for  a  bed,  went  to  sleep. 
During  the  night  he  felt  some  hard  substance  under  him,  and 
groping  for  it,  seized  some  kind  of  a  bone,  and  threw  it  away. 
Not  till  morning  did  he  discover  that  "he  was  lying  on  nothing 
less  than  a  heap  of  human  bones  and  skulls,  which  covered  all 
the  floor."  He  remained  in  this  cheerful  apartment  a  day  or 
two  without  food,  until  Mr.  Wawatam,  with  swollen  eyes  and 
thick  utterance,  staggered  up  to  the  cave,  and  told  him  the 
drunk  was  over.  For  more  than  a  year  Henry  lived  with  his 
protector,  Wawatam,  hunting  through  the  gloomy  forests  of 
Michigan,  before  he  finally  succeeded  in  making  his  way  to 
Montreal. 

When  Henry  had  met  with  his  friend  Wawatam,  and  been 
adopted  into  his  family,  the  other  survivors  of  the  massacre 
were  still  kept  by  the  Ottawas  at  Fort  Michillimackinac,  whence 
they  were  removed  to  L'Arbre  Croche.  Captain  Etherington 
dispatched  a  letter  to  Lieutenant  Gorell,  the  commander  of  the 
little  post  of  Green  Bay.  The  latter  was  requested  to  bring 
all  his  force  to  the  relief  of  the  prisoners.  Gorell  was  on  the 
point  of  obeying  and  abandoning  his  post,  when  the  neighboring 
Indians  intimated  that  his  departure  would  be  prevented.  The 
threat  might  have  been  carried  out  had  not  a  messenger  from 
the  terrible  Dakota  nation,  with  its  thirty  thousand  braves, 
arrived  with  words  of  loyalty  to  the  English,  and  denouncing 
with  threatenings  and  slaughter,  every  tribe  which  was  unfaith 
ful  to  them.  This  sentiment  must  be  attributed  to  no  loftier 
source  than  the  ancient  hostility  of  the  Dakotas  to  the  Ojibwas. 
Gorell  was  now  allowed  to  depart,  and  making  his  way  to  the 
Ottawa  village,  negotiated  the  release  of  the  prisoners. 

On  July  18,  1763,  they  embarked  in  their  canoes  for  Mon 
treal,  reaching  there  more  than  a  year  sooner  than  Henry. 
With  the  fall  of  Michillimackinac,  and  the  abandonment  of  Green 
Bay,  the  Detroit  garrison  found  itself  left  alone  in  the  wilder 
ness.  There  was  not  a  British  soldier  west  of  Fort  Niagara, 
except  those  behind  the  palisades  of  Detroit. 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  267 

We  have  wandered  far  from  the  story  of  the  defenders  of 
Detroit.  The  news  of  the  disasters  which  we  have  related 
was  received  by  the  despairing  garrison  with  sad  punctuality. 
Meanwhile,  though  we  have  neglected  to  follow  their  fortunes  or 
misfortunes,  events  crowded  each  other  in  this  remarkable  siege. 

One  night  some  friendly  Canadians,  from  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  reported  at  the  fort  that  there  were  rumors  among 
the  Indians  that  the  schooner  Gladwyn  was  coming  up  the  river. 
This  vessel  had  gone  down  to  hasten  Cuyler's  ill-fated  expedi 
tion.  Having  passed  the  flotilla,  which  was  yet  voyaging  pros 
perously,  she  held  on  her  way  to  Niagara.  She  was  still  riding 
at  anchor  in  the  smooth  river  above  the  falls,  at  the  time  when 
Cuyler  and  two  companions,  haggard  and  exhausted,  reached 
the  fort  with  the  story  of  the  disaster,  and  of  themselves  alone 
being  left  to  tell  the  tale. 

A  force  of  sixty  men  was  at  once  placed  on  board  the 
schooner,  with  such  ammunition  and  supplies  as  could  be  spared 
from  the  fort.  She  had  made  her  way  up  the  river,  and  was 
about  to  undertake  the  few  dangerous  miles  which  separated  her 
from  the  fort.  The  garrison  fired  two  guns  to  let  the  crew 
know  that  the  fort  still  held  out.  This  done,  they  waited. 

The  schooner,  meanwhile,  weighed  anchor  and  started  up 
the  narrow  channel  between  the  shore  and  Fighting  Island. 
Just  as  she  reached  the  narrowest  part,  the  afternoon  breeze 
grew  more  and  more  gentle,  and  at  last  died  away,  leaving  the 
white  sails  drooping  idly  in  the  air.  Nothing  is  so  absolutely 
helpless  as  a  sail-vessel  without  a  favoring  wind.  It  is  hardly 
possible  to  understand  how  the  commerce  of  the  globe  was  car 
ried  on  entirely  by  means  of  them  until  within  the  present  cen 
tury.  The  anchor  chain  rattled  off  rapidly  from  the  capstan. 
The  great  iron  fluke  disappeared  in  the  water,  and  energetically 
grabbed  the  bottom  of  the  river.  The  vessel  was  standing  still, 
within  gunshot  of  an  Indian  ambush. 

As  the  sun  sank  to  rest  in  his  couch  of  flame,  the  guards 
on  board  the  vessel  were  doubled.  Hour  after  hour  their 


268  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

strained  eyes  sought  to  penetrate  the  darkness.  At  last,  the 
plash  of  muffled  oars  was  heard.  Dark  objects  came  mov 
ing  swiftly  down  the  river  toward  the  vessel.  Every  man  was 
silently  summoned  on  deck.  A  blow  of  a  hammer  on  the  mast 
was  to  be  the  signal  for  firing.  The  long  black  canoes  approached 
the  dark  and  silent  schooner.  The  Indians  thought  the  prize 
was  theirs.  At  last  the  hammer  struck  the  mast.  The  slumber 
ing  vessel  burst  into  a  blaze  of  cannon  and  musketry.  The 
hostile  fleet  was  demoralized.  Many  Indians  were  killed.  Some 
canoes  were  sunk  outright.  As  the  enemy  opened  fire  from 
their  barricade,  the  schooner  weighed  anchor,  and,  drifting  with 
the  river's  tide,  floated  down  out  of  danger. 

The  following  day  the  passage  was  again  attempted,  this 
time  with  success.  The  beleaguered  garrison  received  the  much- 
needed  supplies  of  men,  ammunition,  and  provision. 

Pontiac  was  disappointed.  Everywhere  success  had  crowned 
the  conspiracy  except  that  part  of  it  which  he  superintended 
himself.  For  forty  days  his  genius  and  resolution  had  held  his 
restless  followers  to  the  dull  monotony  of  the  siege.  How  much 
longer  could  he  do  it?  His  uneasiness  manifested  itself.  One 
thing  which  showed  it  was  his  attempt  to  force  the  neighboring 
Canadians  to  lend  active  assistance.  He  called  them  together 
in  council,  made  a  long  speech,  told  them  that  he  fought  for  the 
king  of  France,  their  sovereign ;  that  if  they  were  loyal  French 
men  they  must  lend  their  help ;  that  if  they  were  friendly  to 
the  English,  and  would  not  join  in  the  war  against  them,  then 
he  would  make  war  on  them  as  enemies  of  France. 

All  men  can,  on  occasion,  be  hypocrites.  Some  of  the  Cana 
dians  pretended  to  take  up  the  hatchet  and  join  in  the  siege. 
This  accession  required  a  celebration.  Pontiac  ordered  a  feast — 
of  dogs.  In  every  one  of  all  the  numberless  wigwams  which 
formed  the  besieging  lines,  a  dog  was  slain,  and  the  flesh  eaten. 
If  an  Indian  happened  to  dislike  the  dish,  it  was  so  much  the 
worse  for  him.  An  enormous  piece  of  the  delicacy  was  placed 
before  him.  By  all  the  laws  of  Indian  society  and  etiquette, 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  269 

he  was  not  allowed  to  rise  from  the  repast  till  he  had  eaten 
every  bit  of  the  meat. 

Another  incident  revealed  Pontiac's  rage.  It  is  hard  even 
for  a  great  leader  to  hide  his  real  feelings  from  his  followers. 
At  first  he  had  protected  Major  Campbell  from  Indian  cruelty. 
But  his  red  retainers  now  read  a  new  lesson  in  his  imperious 
eye.  The  captive  was  murdered  in  his  prison. 

The  two  schooners  in  the  bay  were  regarded  by  the  Indians 
with  mingled  rage  and  superstition.  The  broadsides  with  which 
their  camps  were  bombarded,  the  white  wings  which  they 
spread,  the  mysterious  control  of  their  movements  by  the  sailors, 
the  knowledge  that  the  schooners  served  to  connect  the  other 
wise  isolated  garrison  with  the  rest  of  the  world,  inspired  the 
savages  with  apprehension  and  fury. 

One  night  in  July,  the  lookout  on  one  of  the  schooners 
saw  a  glowing  speck  of  flame  far  up  the  river.  It  came 
nearer,  growing  brighter  and  brighter  as  it  approached.  The 
white  beach  along  the  river  front,  the  dark  pine  trees  in  the 
background,  were  lit  up  by  the  illumination,  revealing  dense 
throngs  of  Indians  crowded  along  the  water's  edge.  The  pali 
sades  of  the  fort,  and  the  spars  and  rigging  of  the  vessels, 
glowed  like  fire  itself.  Far  across  the  harbor  the  waves  were 
reddened  with  the  light.  The  anxious  soldiers  of  the  garrison 
could  be  seen,  watching  with  anxiety  the  singular  apparition. 
As  the  flaming  object  came  nearer,  it  was  discovered  to  be  a 
fire-raft.  The  inventive  genius  of  Pontiac  had  caused  a  number 
of  canoes  to  be  lashed  together,  and  a  vast  quantity  of  com 
bustibles  to  be  piled  on  the  structure.  A  torch  was  applied, 
and  the  thing  of  destruction  was  pushed  off  into  the  current. 

.  But  fortune  or  providence  protected  the  schooners.  The 
blazing  monster,  sending  up  vast  volumes  of  roaring  flames, 
missed  them  by  a  hundred  feet,  and  floated  harmlessly  down 
the  river,  consuming  nothing  but  itself.  As  the  relieved  soldiers 
and  sailors  watched  it  receding  into  the  night,  the  light  grew 
fainter  and  fainter,  until,  at  last,  with  a  mighty  hiss,  the  demon 

15 


270  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

of  fire  plunged  into  the  watery  depths,  as  if  to  drown  its  sor 
row  at  the  wretched  failure.  This  attempt  was  made  again 
and  again,  but  the  crews  of  the  vessel  arranged  a  barricade 
of  boats  and  chains,  which  foiled  every  effort. 

Unknown  to  the  garrison,  Captain  Dalzell  was  on  his  way  to 
Detroit  with  two  barges,  two  hundred  and  eighty  men,  several 
small  cannon,  and  a  fresh  supply  of  provision  and  ammunition. 
Under  cover  of  night  and  fog,  they  reached  the  fort  in  safety, 
having  been  attacked  only  once,  a  conflict  which,  however, 
resulted  in  the  loss  of  fifteen  men.  Boat  after  boat  discharged 
its  loads  on  shore  amid  the  cheers  of  the  soldiers  and  the 
booming  of  cannon.  Among  the  arrivals  was  Major  Rogers,  of 
Rogers's  Rangers,  with  twenty  of  his  old  followers. 

Captain  Dalzell,  on  the  day  of  his  arrival,  much  against 
Gladwyn's  advice,  insisted  on  attacking  the  Indians.  These 
had  been  forced,  by  the  cannonading  from  the  schooners,  to 
remove  their  camp  to  the  rear  of  a  great  marsh,  several  miles 
from  the  fort. 

At  two  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  July  31st,  the  gates  of  the 
palisades  were  noiselessly  opened,  and  two  hundred  and  fifty 
men  marched  down  the  road  along  the  river  shore.  Not  a 
sound  was  heard  in  the  still  night  but  the  muffled  footfalls  of 
the  soldiery  and  the  occasional  rattle  of  an  officer's  sword.  Close 
to  the  river  shore,  keeping  pace  with  the  troops,  two  bateaux, 
each  carrying  a  swivel  gun,  were  rowed  with  stealthy  stroke. 
The  starlit  sky  was  moonless.  But  for  the  fresh  lake  breeze, 
which  sighed  among  the  foliage  of  the  overhanging  forest,  the 
midsummer  night  would  have  been  intolerably  sultry.  On  the 
right  of  the  winding  road  lay  the  river,  with  its  dark  and 
restless  tide ;  on  the  left,  the  houses  and  farms  of  Canadian 
settlers. 

A  mile  and  a  half  from  the  fort  the  road  wound  over  a 
narrow,  wooden  bridge  which  spanned  a  small  stream,  and  then 
crossed  a  succession  of  ridges  lying  parallel  with  the  rivulet. 
These  ridges  were  crowned  with  low  barricades.  The  spot  had 


ARRIVAL  OF  DALZELL  WITH  SUPPLIES. 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  273 

been  Pontiac's  old  camp.  On  either  side  of  the  road  were  vast 
piles  of  firewood,  cut  by  the  Canadians,  and  stumps  of  trees 
from  which  the  fuel  had  been  cut.  Here  was  a  long  line  of 
heavy  picket  fence,  inclosing  several  orchards.  There,  on  rising 
ground,  stood  the  house  of  a  Canadian  named  Meloche.  Over 
it  all  hung  the  pall  of  darkness  and  mist  from  the  river  which 
made  the  various  objects  indistinct. 

The  soldiers  supposed  their  attack  would  be  a  complete  sur 
prise  to  Pontiac.  Yet,  in  spite  of  this,  the  men  shuddered  as 
they  filed  down  the  descent  which  led  across  the  narrow,  wooden 
bridge.  The  ravine  looked  lonely  and  suspicious.  The  spot 
seemed  fit  for  a  massacre. 

The  advance  guard  had  proceeded  half-way  across  the  bridge. 
Suddenly  there  was  a  wild  war-whoop  in  the  darkness,  and  the 
ridges,  the  intrenchments,  the  orchard  fence,  the  black  wood 
piles,  the  half-chopped  logs,  whatever  could  afford. a  shelter  to 
a  savage,  burst  into  flame.  Half  the  advanced  guard  fell  at  the 
first  fire.  The  unhurt  men  fled  to  the  rear,  and  in  a  moment 
the  whole  column  wavered.  Dalzell  dashed  to  the  front.  His 
clear  voice  rang  out  above  the  infernal  din.  The  men  rallied, 
and  in  a  spasm  of  rage,  charged  across  the  bridge  and  up  the 
opposite  slope.  It  was  sad  folly.  Before  one-third  of  the  way 
up  the  slope,  every  howling  Indian  had  fled  to  another  spot, 
from  which  he  could  fire  upon  the  English.  The  latter  pushed 
on  with  the  courage  of  insanity.  The  charge  which  they  main 
tained  so  stubbornly  was  a  bloody  mockery.  The  lines  were 
broken  and  entangled  in  a  labyrinth  of  fences,  outhouses, 
trees,  and  woodpiles,  from  behind  which  the  red  foes  kept  up 
a  murderous  fire. 

To  advance  was  madness.  To  halt  was  folly.  To  retreat 
was  a  necessity.  One  company,  under  Captain  Grant,  hurried 
back  across  the  bridge,  and  taking  possession  of  the  road  pre 
pared  to  cover  the  retreat.  The  two  bateaux  had  been  rowed 
up  the  creek  to  the  bridge,  and  the  dead  and  wounded  were 
hurriedly  placed  on  board.  A  heavy  fire  was  poured  in  upon 


274  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  English  during  this  last  office  of  friendship.  All  at  once 
a  concentrated  volley  was  received  from  another  direction. 
The  men  of  Grant's  company  turned  to  find  a  body  of  Indians 
strongly  posted  on  their  left  flank  about  the  house  of  Meloche 
and  the  neighboring  orchards.  To  stop  the  deadly  cross-fire, 
Grant's  men  charged  up  the  hill,  and,  at  the  point  of  the  bayo 
net,  drove  the  savages  from  the  orchards  and  house.  In  the 
latter  were  two  Canadians.  They  said  the  English  should 
retreat  at  once  to  the  fort,  as  large  numbers  of  Indians  had 
posted  themselves  on  the  road  in  the  rear. 

The  situation  was  critical.  The  men  retreated  rapidly  and 
without  serious  opposition  for  a  half  mile.  At  this  spot  the 
road  again  ran  through  a  region  thickly  planted  with  houses 
and  fences.  Here,  also,  was  a  newly  dug  cellar  for  a  house. 
This  pit  was  near  the  road.  It  was  full  of  Indians.  As  the 
center  of  the  column  arrived  opposite  the  ambuscade,  a  heavy 
volley  of  balls  was  discharged  at  the  soldiers. 

Already  unnerved  by  the  disaster  at  the  bridge,  the  men 
were  well-nigh  panic-stricken  at  this  new  surprise.  They 
started  down  the  road  in  wild  confusion,  breaking  ranks,  tram 
pling  on  each  other,  throwing  away  their  weapons,  any  way, 
every  way,  to  fly  from  the  storm  of  bullets.  Dalzell,  with 
drawn  sword,  shouted  at  the  men,  and  forced  some  to  stop. 
Others  he  seized  by  the  shoulders  and  held.  He  was  twice 
wounded,  but  paused  not  till  his  panic-stricken  command  was 
rallied. 

It  was  almost  daybreak.  But  a  dense  fog  from  the  river, 
illuminated  by  incessant  flashes  from  the  enemy's  guns,  never 
theless  concealed  the  enemy.  Finally  it  grew  light  enough  to 
discern  the  shadowy  outline  of  a  house,  of  which  the  Indians 
had  taken  possession,  and  from  the  windows  of  which  they 
poured  murderous  volleys  upon  the  little  band  of  Englishmen. 
This  house  commanded  the  road  along  which  the  men  must 
pass  to  reach  the  fort.  Major  Rogers,  with  his  handful  of 
Hangers,  burst  in  the  door  of  the  house  with  an  ax,  and,  in  a 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  275 

fearful  hand-to-hand  conflict,  killed  every  Indian  in  the  house 
who  did  not  fly.  Another  detachment  charged  a  line  of  fences 
behind  which  the  savages  were  concealed.  This,  too,  was  in 
the  main  successful. 

In  the  lull  that  ensued  after  these  two  advantages,  Dalzell 
at  once  ordered  the  retreat  to  recommence.  The  column  had 
not  moved  twenty  feet  when  the  Indians  came  running  from 
every  direction  with  wild  yells,  and  fell  upon  their  rear  and 
flank.  Dalzell  was  shot  and  killed.  The  loss  of  their  leader 
threatened  the  battered  and  unnerved  command  with  total 
destruction. 

In  the  crisis  Major  Rogers  and  his  Rangers  took  possession 
of  another  house  which  commanded  the  road.  Some  of  the 
terrified  regulars  followed  him,  in  frantic  eagerness  to  gain 
shelter  from  the  tempest  of  destruction  without.  The  building 
was  large  and  strong.  The  Canadian  women  and  children  of 
the  neighborhood  had  already  fled  to  it  for  refuge.  They  were 
crowded  into  the  cellar. 

As  the  Rangers  entered  the  building,  its  owner,  an  old  man 
named  Campan,  resolutely  planted  himself  on  the  trap-door 
leading  to  the  cellar,  and  thrust  back  every  soldier  who  sought 
to  lift  it.  No  time  was  to  be  lost.  Rogers's  stentorian  voice 
shouted  to  the  men  to  barricade  the  windows.  In  a  moment 
the  yells  of  two  hundred  Indians,  surrounding  the  house,  mingled 
with  the  shrieks  and  cries  of  the  half-stifled  women  and  children 
in  the  cellar.  With  skilled  hands,  the  Rangers  piled  the  windows 
full  of  furs,  bedding,  clothes,  whatever  would  serve  to  shelter 
them  from  the  bullets  of  the  savages,  which  now  rattled  against 
the  building  like  the  roar  of  a  hailstorm. 

While  Rogers  and  his  men  boldly  risked  their  lives  to  cover 
the  retreat  of  the  others,  Captain  Grant  hurried  forward  for 
another  half  mile,  and  posted  a  squad  of  men  in  a  strong  situa 
tion,  from  which  base  of  operations  he  sent  forward  other  de 
tachments,  as  they  came  up,  to  occupy  other  points  along  the 
road  within  supporting  distance  of  each  other,  until  by  these 


276  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

tactics  he  had  a  complete  line  of  communication  with  the  fort. 
Each  squad  in  turn,  commencing  with  the  farthest,  then  guard 
edly  retreated  to  the  fort,  till  all  were  in. 

The  gallant  Rogers  and  his  handful  of  Rangers,  who  had  by 
their  courage  saved  the  command  from  complete  destruction, 
were  yet  defending  themselves  in  Campan's  house  against  a  vast 
multitude  of  savages,  who  had  concentrated  their  force  upon 
this  isolated  band  of  heroes.  To  relieve  these  brave  fellows 
from  their  imminent  peril,  Grant  ordered  the  bateaux  to  ascend 
the  river  to  a  point  opposite  the  house.  The  swivel-guns  were 
brought  to  bear,  and  in  a  short  time  the  assailants  were  driven 
to  the  rear  of  the  house.  Rogers  and  his  men  seized  the  op 
portunity  to  rush  out,  just  as  the  savages  burst  in  at  the  rear 
door.  Under  cover  of  the  cannonade,  the  Rangers  made  their 
way  to  the  fort.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  after  six 
hours  of  fighting,  the  last  man  entered  the  sheltering  palisade. 
The  fight  at  Bloody  Run,  as  the  creek  was  known  from  that 
time,  had  cost  the  English  a  loss  of  fifty-nine  men. 

The  news  of  the  Indian  victory  spread  far  and  wide  through 
the  north,  and  bands  of  painted  warriors  arrived  daily  to  re-en 
force  the  besiegers.  The  siege  resumed  its  old  monotony,  which 
was  at  last  disturbed  by  a  thrilling  attack  on  the  schooner 
Gladwyn.  This  vessel,  the  smaller  of  the  two,  was  returning 
from  a  trip  to  Niagara.  She  had  on  board  ten  sailors  and  six 
Iroquois,  who  were  supposed  to  support  the  cause  of  the  English. 
One  morning  these  wily  children  of  the  forest  asked  to  be  put 
ashore.  In  a  moment  of  folly  the  request  was  complied  with. 
That  they  repaired  at  once  to  Pontiac  with  reports  of  the 
weakness  of  the  crew,  there  can  be  no  doubt. 

That  night  the  schooner  attempted  the  narrow  river  channel 
below  the  fort,  but  was  caught  midway  in  a  dead  calm.  The 
pitchy  darkness  concealed  from  the  eyes  of  the  anxious  look 
outs  a  fleet  of  canoes,  with  three  hundred  and  fifty  Indians, 
which  floated  unobserved  to  within  a  few  yards  of  the  schooner. 
One  cannon-shot  was  fired,  but  before  its  echoes  had  ceased  the 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  277 

savages  swarmed  over  the  sides  of  the  vessel  by  scores.  A 
fearful  hand  to  hand  conflict  ensued. 

But  resistance  was  useless.  Ten  or  fifteen  savages  sur 
rounded  each  sailor.  Just  as  all  was  about  over  the  mate 
shouted,  "  Boys,  fire  the  magazine,  and  blow  her  up ! "  A  mo 
ment  more  and  the  vessel  would  have  been  a  dismantled  wreck. 
But  some  Wyandots  understood  the  words.  With  a  wild  cry 
of  alarm  the  Indians  leaped  from  the  vessel  into  the  water, 
swimming  away  at  the  top  of  their  speed.  The  deck  was 
cleared  instantaneously.  The  astonished  crew  found  not  an  In 
dian  on  board,  where  a  minute  before  they  had  been  by  scores. 
The  savages  ventured  no  more  near  the  vessel.  The  next  morn 
ing  a  stiff  breeze  filled  the  languid  sails,  and  the  plucky  little 
schooner  made  her  way  safely  to  the  fort. 

We  can  not  follow  the  detailed  story  of  the  siege  further, 
but  turn  to  view  other  fields  which  the  ambition  of  Pontiac 
desolated  with  the  horrors  of  war.  When  the  weak  line  of 
frontier  forts  was  overwhelmed,  the  news  of  the  successive  dis 
asters  was  carried,  not  alone  to  the  starving  garrison  of  Detroit, 
and  the  great  chieftain  who  sat  watching  it  like  an  Evil  Grenius, 
but  the  same  tidings  spread  like  wild-fire  along  the  defenseless 
frontiers,  and  among  the  wild  Indians  of  the  west,  who  yet 
hesitated  to  take  up  the  hatchet.  Venango,  Sandusky,  Le  Boeuf, 
St.  Joseph,  Miami,  Ouatanon,  Michillimackinac,  Presqu'  Isle, 
these  were  the  fated  names  which  flashed  over  the  frontiers, 
carrying  dread  and  terror  to  every  cabin. 

It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  defenseless  frontiers  of  Vir 
ginia  and  Pennsylvania  bore  the  recent  scars  of  the  fearful 
desolation  of  the  French  and  Indian  War,  which  ensued  after 
Braddock's  defeat.  Their  sufferings  were  recent.  The  memory 
of  the  mighty  panic  which  desolated  vast  stretches  of  settled 
country,  and  of  the  awful  fate  of  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
settlers,  who,  with  dogged  courage,  faced  the  savage  hordes, 
was  fresh  and  vivid. 

The  imaginations  of  the  terror-stricken  pioneers  dilated  with 


278  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

horror  as  the  black-winged  rumors  flew  from  cabin  to  cabin, 
and  from  settlement  to  settlement.  Nor  were  these  apprehen 
sions  untimely.  The  very  worst  came  to  pass.  The  most  exag 
gerated  fears  were  those  which  most  nearly  foretold  the  truth. 
The  war-parties  of  savages,  with  reddened  tomahawk  and 
flaming  torch,  followed  swiftly  after  the  tidings  of  the  fall  of 
the  forts. 

It  was  the  French  and  Indian  war  over  again.  This  state 
ment  must  be  received  with  some  qualifications.  It  was  more 
extended.  It  was  bloodier.  It  was  more  sudden.  It  was  more 
fearful  in  its  details.  In  these  respects  the  war  of  Pontiac  was 
worse  than  that  of  the  French  and  Indians.  From  the  tall 
Creeks,  who  dwelt  among  the  palms  and  magnolias  of  the  sunny 
south,  to  the  wiry!  savages  who  shivered  around  frosty  Halifax, 
the  war-cry  resounded  through  the  unending  forests,  and  the 
tomahawk  was  uplifted  by  cruel  hands. 

The  details  of  the  fearful  conflict  may  not  be  followed  in 
this  place.  Only  a  few  of  the  most  striking  incidents  can  be 
mentioned.  In  three  months  more  than  two  thousand  families 
were  driven  from  their  homes  in  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia  to 
the  settlements  and  cities  of  the  east,  and  more  than  a  thou 
sand  persons  were  massacred  or  taken  captive.  As  in  the 
former  war,  vast  sweeps  of  settled  country  were  absolutely 
abandoned  by  the  flying  inhabitants.  As  before,  the  multitudes 
of  unhappy  refugees  were  crowded  together  in  the  towns  to 
which  they  had  hurried,  seeking  shelter  in  barns,  hovels, -and 
temporary  huts  of  bark,  where  they  were  confronted  by  all  the 
horrors  of  penury  and  famine.  As  before,  the  Quaker  govern 
ment  sat  with  folded  hands,  extending  to  the  bleeding  frontiers 
no  comfort  but  counsels  to  non-resistance,  and  no  aid  but  pious 
maxims.  From  every  valley  of  the  Alleghanies  rose  black 
columns  of  smoke  from  burning  cabins  and  blazing  hay-stacks. 

The  commander-in-chief  of  the  British  army  was  reluctantly 
forced  to  believe  in  a  wide-spread  Indian  insurrection.  From 
the  meager  resources  at  his  command,  two  relief  expeditions 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  279 

were  organized  for  the  two  posts,  which  were  thought  to  be  in 
imminent  peril.  The  story  of  the  one  designed  for  Detroit, 
under  the  brave  but  incautious  Dalzell,  we  have  already  traced. 
The  other  expedition,  under  Henry  Bouquet,  consisting  of  five 
hundred  emaciated  and  feeble  regulars  from  the  West  Indias, 
was  designed  for  Fort  Pitt. 

Day  after  day  the  weak,  little  band  pressed  on  their  errand 
<of  succor.  Now  they  passed  the  charred  ruins  of  desolated  set 
tlements  in  some  lovely  valley;  now  they  came  to  some  lonely 
little  block-house,  from  which  a  swarm  of  beleaguering  Indians 
fled  at  their  first  approach;  now  suffering  from  the  heat  of  the 
July  sun,  they  toiled,  panting  up  the  long  slopes  of  the  Alle- 
ghanies ;  now  from  the  crest  of  some  range  they  looked  out  over 
the  landscape,  with  its  purple  mountain  ranges,  its  shimmering 
rivers,  and  its  deep  valleys,  embowered  in  all  the  luxuriance  of 
midsummer  foliage. 

The  fate  of  Braddock's  army,  of  more  than  ten  times  the 
strength  of  this  little  command  of  regulars,  already  wasted  by 
disease  contracted  in  the  burning  atmosphere  of  the  Indias,  and 
wholly  unused  to  Indian  warfare,  hung  constantly  before  the 
eyes  of  the  men.  Every  possible  precaution  against  ambuscade 
was  taken.  They  were  within  twenty-five  miles  of  Fort  Pitt, 
descending  a  hill  through  a  dense  forest,  when  a  volley  of  shots 
at  the  head  of  the  column  announced  to  every  startled  soldier 
that  they  were  attacked.  A  command  to  charge  was  given,  and 
company  after  company  dashed  down  the  hill.  Before  the 
impetupus  onset  the  Indians  fled. 

Just  at  the  moment  of  victory,  a  heavy  fire  in  the  flank  and 
rear  announced  that  the  enemy  were  by  no  means  all  in  the 
front,  and  that  the  provision  wagons,  carrying  the  precious 
stores  for  Fort  Pitt,  as  well  as  the  supplies  for  the  troops,  had 
been  attacked.  No  time  was  to  be  lost.  The  men  turned  and 
hurried  back  up  the  hill  to  the  relief  of  the  convoy.  A  circle 
was  formed  about  the  wagons  right  on  the  hill-side.  It  was 
none  too  soon,  for  the  Indians  at  once  flung  themselves  on  this 


280  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

protecting  ring  of  soldiers.  The  forest  rang  with  the  war- 
whoops  of  the  savages.  Every  tree  and  log  served  as  a  shelter 
from  which  they  peppered  the  British  regulars,  who  were  wholly 
unused  to  bush  fighting.  The  fight  was  kept  up  for  seven  hours, 
until  night  hid  the  combatants  from  each  other. 

The  English  were  forced  to  encamp  on  the  hill  where  they 
were.  To  attempt  a  remove  was  certain  destruction.  Yet  not 
a  drop  of  water  could  be  had  in  their  camp.  After  seven  hours 
of  fighting  in  a  scorching  midsummer  sun,  the  men  were  almost 
insane  with  thirst.  The  gloom  of  the  night  could  hardly  darken 
the  prospect  which  confronted  the  command.  Sixty  of  their 
number  had  been  killed  and  wounded.  The  latter  were  placed 
behind  a  low  barricade  of  sacks  of  flour  from  the  wagons. 
Fever  lent  its  flames  to  intensify  the  fearful  sufferings  from 
thirst. 

Bouquet,  cool,  competent  commander,  saw  so  little  hope  for 
the  morrow,  that  he  wrote  a  concise  report  of  the  engagement 
to  his  commander-in-chief,  that  the  latter  might  be  informed 
concerning  it,  "  whatever  our  fate  may  be."  The  dream-haunted 
slumbers  of  the  restless  men  were  broken  as  the  first  gray  light 
came  stealing  through  the  damp  forest.  It  was  the  struggle  of 
the  previous  day  renewed.  Yet  some  changes  could  be  noticed. 
The  Indians,  confident  of  victory,  dashed  more  openly  and 
boldly  upon  the  lines.  The  soldiers,  on  the  other  hand,  fought 
with  less  hope,  and  some  demoralization  from  their  sufferings. 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  there  was  no  further  altera 
tion  in  the  situation.  Bouquet  saw  that  it  was  only  a  question 
of  time  until  his  men  were  overpowered,  unless  a  change  came 
soon.  The  savages  pressed  harder  and  harder  upon  the  dis 
tressed  soldiery.  The  horses  picketed  in  the  circle  near  the 
barricade  for  the  wounded,  received  many  shots,  and  maddened 
with  pain,  added  to  the  uproar  of  battle  their  own  wild  and 
unearthly  cries,  or  sometimes  breaking  loose  they  would  bound 
through  the  lines  of  friends  and  foes,  and  run  up  and  down  the 
mountains  screaming  with  agony. 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  281 

One  thing  was  true.  If  the  Indians  could  be  collected  into 
a  body  and  stand  long  enough  to  fight  it  out,  Bouquet  might 
yet  achieve  a  victory.  He  resolved  on  a  desperate  stratagem. 
Two  companies,  forming  a  part  of  the  line  hotly  pressed,  were 
ordered  to  fall  back  quickly,  while  the  troops  on  either  side 
were  to  rapidly  cover  the  gap  by  a  thin  extension  of  their  own 
lines,  as  if  to  cover  the  retreat. 

The  maneuver  was  executed  successfully.  The  savages,  as 
Bouquet  had  foreseen,  mistook  the  movement  for  retreat.  They 
sprang  forward  at  the  gap  from  all  directions,  and  throwing 
themselves  on  the  slender  line,  were  on  the  point  of  breaking 
into  the  very  heart  of  the  camp,  when  the  aspect  of  affairs 
underwent  a  sudden  change.  The  two  companies  which  had 
withdrawn  made  a  quick  flank  movement,  hidden  by  the  forest, 
and  just  as  the  Indians  were  on  the  point  of  victory,  discharged 
a  fearful  volley  into  their  flank  at  point-blank  range. 

The  astonished  savages  turned  at  bay,  and  fought  like  tigers 
to  extricate  themselves  from  the  trap.  Before  they  could  do 
so,  and  break  out  of  the  circle  which  they  had  fought  so  long 
to  break  into,  two  other  companies  were  precipitated  upon  the 
Indians.  At  this  new  onslaught  they  broke  and  fled,  pursued 
by  the  English  and  overwhelmingly  routed.  The  exhausted 
troops  collected  their  wounded,  and,  by  the  following  evening, 
reached  Fort  Pitt. 

This  place  had  been  in  peril,  but  on  the  report  of  the  defeat 
of  their  warriors  at  Bushy  Run,  near  which  the  battle  had  been 
fought,  the  besiegers  fled.  The  defenders  of  the  fort  had  taken 
every  precaution  possible.  They  had  cleared  the  land  around 
it  so  that  the  savages  might  have  no  shelter.  They  had  raised 
the  palisade,  strengthened  the  barracks,  and  even  constructed  a 
rude  fire-engine  to  be  used  in  case  the  savages  succeeded  in 
firing  the  buildings. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Indians  had  displayed  equal  ingenu 
ity.  Under  cover  of  night,  they  had  crawled  up  the  open  river 
banks,  under  the  ramparts,  and  by  incredible  industry  had  dug 


282  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

out  innumerable  rifle-pits  with  their  knives.  Each  one  of  these 
burrows  held  one  or  two  warriors,  whose  deadly  aim  was  cer 
tain  to  bring  down  every  exposed  soldier.  The  peril  of  the 
fort,  thus  closely  invested,  arose  from  famine.  The  arrival  of 
Bouquet,  however,  happily  averted  it. 

Bouquet's  victory  caused  only  a  temporary  lull  in  the  deso 
lation  of  the  frontiers  in  its  immediate  neighborhood.  The  his 
tory  of  the  time  is  full  of  fearful  incidents.  A  party  of  twenty- 
four  soldiers,  in  charge  of  a  train  of  provision  wagons,  was 
ambuscaded  three  miles  below  Niagara  Falls,  where  the  narrow 
road  ran  close  to  the  brink  of  the  gloomy  precipices  and  black 
abysses  of  Devil's  Hole.  Such  as  were  not  killed  on  the  spot 
were  thrown  over  the -cliff,  and  were  shattered  beyond  recogni 
tion  far  below  upon  the  rocks.  A  relief  party  started  out  from 
Fort  Niagara  on  hearing  the  sound  of  rifles,  but  fell  into  an 
ambuscade  not  less  terrible  than  the  first,  leaving  over  fifty  of 
their  number  slain. 

In  the  war  on  the  Pennsylvania  border  one  incident  stands 
out  unmatched  in  its  cruelty.  In  the  center  of  a  lonely  forest 
stood  a  small  school-house.  This  building  was  attacked  by 
Indians  just  as  the  master  was  about  to  begin  the  daily  round 
of  study  with  prayer.  He  was  killed  with  the  open  Bible  in 
his  hand,  and  an  agonized  plea  for  the  safety  of  his  scholars  on 
his  lips.  At  nightfall,  when  the  little  fellows  who  attended  the 
school  failed  to  return  home,  anxious  searchers  made  their  way 
to  the  school-house,  where  they  fourid  the  lifeless  remains  of 
the  teacher,  surrounded  by  the  corpses  of  his  nine  scholars. 

Before  the  winter  closed  in,  another  attempt  was  made  to 
relieve  Detroit.  Major  Wilkins,  with  a  force  of  six  hundred 
regulars,  collected  with  painful  effort  from  the  colonies,  started 
up  the  Niagara  River.  Before  proceeding  far  they  were  attacked 
by  Indians  and  driven  back  in  confusion  to  Fort  Schlosser. 

A  second  time  the  ill-fated  expedition  set  out,  and  succeeded 
in  reaching  Lake  Erie.  The  inland  lake  of  azure,  as  deceitful 
as  a  coquette,  had  been  almost  traversed.  The  broad  mouth  of 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  283 

the  Detroit  River  was  already  in  sight.  The  tired  garrison  were 
just  on  the  point  of  being  relieved.  But  the  sailors  in  the  flo 
tilla  shook  their  heads  with  misgiving,  and  talked  in  low  voices, 
as  they  saw  rising  in  the  north-western  sky  the  dark  battalions 
of  the  Storm  King.  With  inconceivable  rapidity,  the  little  line 
of  blue  vapor  which  hung  lazily  on  the  horizon  expanded  and 
dilated  until  the  blue  canopy  was  obscured  with  dark  and  thun 
derous  clouds.  The  ragged  rain  line  advanced  swiftly.  A  heavy 
gale  of  wind  arose.  The  helpless  bateaux  were  rocked  more 
and  more  uneasily  on  the  rising  waves. 

The  surface  of  the  lake  grew  black  as  ink,  and  was  flecked 
with  angry  white-caps.  The  bright  day  was  succeeded  by  the 
greenish  darkness  of  the  tempest.  Every  muscle  was  strained 
by  the  crew  of  each  canoe  to  make  the  shore.  It  had  been 
four  miles  away  when  the  first  signs  of  the  approaching  storm 
were  detected.  For  fifteen  minutes  they  had  been  headed  for 
land.  Yet  it  was  still  two  miles  and  a  half  away. 

The  gale  rose  higher  and  higher.  Now  a  rolling  wave  lifted 
the  prow  of  a  canoe  five  feet  in  the  air,  now  plunged  it  as  far 
below  the  surface  of  the  lake,  and  broke  athwart  the  bow,  del 
uging  the  rowers  with  spray  and  water.  Red  lightnings  shot 
zigzag  across  the  angry  sky,  and  terrific  peals  of  thunder 
exploded  like  the  trumps  of  doom.  As  the  tempest  grew 
heavier  and  wrought  the  mobile  lake  into  more  perfect  reflec 
tion  of  its  own  fury  and  violence,  the  bateaux  heaviest  latfen 
began  to  fill  and  sink.  Some  of  the  crew  would  be  taken  on 
board  other  boats ;  others,  with  white  faces  upturned,  and  pierc 
ing  screams  for  help,  sank  out  of  sight  forever  in  the  raging 
depths.  Great  drops  of  water  began  to  fall.  The  oarsmen 
pulled  with  swollen  arteries  and  knotted  sinews. 

At  last,  as  the  flood-gates  of  the  sky  were  opened,  the  flotilla 
attempted  to  land.  The  frail  vessels  were  caught  in  the  arms 
of  giant  breakers  and  flung  again  and  again  with  remorseless 
violence  against  the  beach.  The  men  jumped  overboard,  and 
abandoning  provisions,  weapons,  and  ammunition  to  the  greedy 


284  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

waves,  fought  their  way  through  the  seething  surf  to  the  land  so 
many  had  failed  to  reach.  The  equipment  of  the  expedition  was 
utterly  lost.  To  proceed  to  Detroit  was  only  to  treble  the  num 
ber  behind  the  palisade  which  must  be  fed,  without  replenishing 
the  scanty  supply  of  provision.  With  misery  and  hardship  the 
men  struggled  back  to  Niagara.  Detroit  was  still  left  alone. 

Before  the  news  of  this  disaster  reached  the  garrison,  infor 
mation  of  a  very  different  kind  had  filled  the  spirit  of  the 
mighty  Pontiac  with  bitterness  and  rage.  While  Pontiac  had 
been  maturing  the  far-reaching  plans  of  his  ambitious  conspiracy 
in  the  winter  of  1762—1763,  to  overthrow  the  English,  re-estab 
lish  France  in  the  military  dominion  of  the  west,  and  seat  the 
Indians,  the  aboriginal  lords,  upon  the  throne  of  the  balance  of 
power  between  the  two  European  nations,  these  latter  had  been 
maturing  a  counter  movement,  culminating  on  the  10th  of 
February,  1763,  in  the  treaty  of  Paris,  by  which  France 
resigned  all  claim  to  the  territory  east  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  news  of  this  treaty  reached  Pontiac  when  the  siege  of 
Detroit  was  but  a  month  old.  But  with  iron-headed  skepti 
cism  the  dark-browed  king  of  the  forest  refused  to  believe  it, 
and  threatened  death  to  every  person  who  ventured  to  bring 
such  news.  As  the  summer  rolled  away,  with  Detroit  still 
unsubdued,  and  the  expected  war  canoes  of  the  French  king, 
which  he  had  promised  his  followers  months  before  were 
alre.ady  on  their  way  to  strike  the  English,  were  yet  as  far  off  as 
ever,  Pontiac  stamped  his  foot  with  rage,  and  dispatched  a 
fierce,  haughty  demand  for  weapons,  provisions,  and  re-enforce 
ments  to  the  French  commandant  of  Fort  Chartres,  in  the  Illi 
nois  country. 

The  reply  to  this  demand  reached  the  haughty  Pontiac 
about  the  time  of  the  Lake  Erie  disaster.  It  was  to  the  effect 
that  the  French  king  had  made  peace  and  resigned  all  claim  to 
her  territory  in  America;  that  instead  of  expecting  help  for 
war,  Pontiac  should  himself  lay  down  the  hatchet. 

On  receipt  of  this  message,  of  which  the  authenticity  could 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  285 

not  be  doubted,  Pontiac's  fierce  spirit  was  wrought  into  unspeak 
able  fury.  For  hours  no  man  or  woman  dared  go  near  him,  so 
terrible  was  his  rage.  He  sat  raving  and  cursing,  like  an 
46  archangel  fallen."  There  are  fiercer  storms  than  those  of  wind 
and  wave.  This  was  one.  It  was  a  tempest  in  a  brain.  At  last 
he  rose,  and  with  imperious  gesture  ordered  the  frightened 
squaws  to  take  down  the  wigwams.  That  night  the  dark  con 
spirator  withdrew  to  the  tribes  along  the  Maumee  River.  The 
siege  of  Detroit,  however,  though  practically  suspended  during 
the  winter,  was  renewed  the  following  spring,  but  with  less 
pertinacity  and  zeal.  The  eye  of  the  master  was  no  longer  there 
to  oversee  it. 

Though  Detroit  still  baffled  the  fierce  tribes  of  the  north, 
the  defenseless  borders  of  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia  ceased  not 
to  be  desolated  with  fire  and  blood.  Farther  and  farther  to  the 
east  the  savages  pushed  their  depredations.  Nearer  and  nearer 
to  the  quick  of  the  nation  did  the  assassin's  knife  cut  its  way. 
To  these  things  the  Quaker  Assembly  of  Philadelphia  refused 
to  make  any  resistance.  With  placid  obstinacy  and  undisturbed 
countenances,  they  heard  the  horrible  tales  of  border  massacre 
and  bloodshed,  and  then  declared  that  resistance  would  be  sin 
ful  !  The  poor  frontier  people  flooded  the  assembly  with 
memorials,  pleas,  petitions,  prayers,  and  supplications,  imploring, 
begging,  demanding  protection.  To  these  things  the  good 
Quakers  turned  an  ear  of  stone. 

So  the  frontiersmen,  as  is  always  the  case  where  the  govern 
ment  fails  to  discharge  its  duty  and  enforce  the  law,  took  the 
law  and  its  execution  into  their  own  hands.  Bands  of  maddened 
and  desperate  men  organized  for  protection  and  revenge.  As  the 
report  of  their  telling  blows  against  the  savages  reached  Phila 
delphia,  the  Quakers  raised  a  fearful  clamor  of  denunciation. 
As  the  majority  of  the  frontiersmen  were  Presbyterians,  the  gall 
of  sectarianism  was  added  to  the  wormwood  of  political  strife 
over  the  issue  of  resistance  or  non-resistance — which  ? 

The  bold  borderers  fought  well,  shouting  their  notes  of  defi- 


286  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ance  to  the  citizens  of  the  Quaker  capital.  Among  them,  our 
old  friend  James  Smith,  whose  fortunes  in  captivity  we  traced 
in  a  former  chapter,  was  one  of  the  most  notorious  and  success 
ful  leaders.  Of  course  this  irregular  warfare,  a  sort  of  unli 
censed  murdering,  led  to  excesses.  One  of  these  has  become 
historic.  It  illustrates  ths  stormy  time. 

Near  the  broad  and  mirror-like  Susquehanna,  and  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  town  of  Lancaster,  at  a  spot  known  as  the 
Manor  of  Conestoga,  lived  a  small  band  of  Indians.  The  set 
tlement  was  old,  and  in  former  years  had  been  prosperous, 
but  at  the  time  of  which  we  write  had  dwindled,  till  nothing 
remained  of  it  but  a  cluster  of  squalid  hovels,  inhabited  by 
twenty  wretched  Indians,  regarded  in  the  neighborhood  simply 
as  lazy,  but  harmless  vagabonds.  On  the  east  bank  of  the  Sus- 
quehanna,  and  some  distance  farther  up,  stood  the  town  of  Pax- 
ton.  It  had  been  burnt  by  the  Indians  in  the  French  war.  Of 
this  burning  and  the  massacre  which  followed,  the  inhabitants 
carried  in  their  hearts  the  memory.  For  the  Indians  they  had 
no  mercy,  but  only  black  hate  and  an  undying  thirst  for 
revenge.  For  some  time,  as  the  horrors  of  Indian  warfare  again 
swept  along  the  frontiers,  they  had  watched  the  poor  vagabonds 
of  Conestoga  with  an  eye  of  fierce  suspicion.  The  verdict  of 
history  is  that  one  or  two  of  the  Conestoga  Indians  were  guilty ; 
the  rest  innocent. 

One  night  word  was  brought  to  Paxton  that  an  Indian, 
known  to  have  committed  depredations,  had  been  tracked  to 
Conestoga.  The  Paxton  blood  was  fired.  Fifty  men,  athirst 
for  blood,  mounted  on  horses,  proceeded  to  the  Indian  settle 
ment  and  surrounded  it  just  before  daybreak.  As  they  drew 
near  to  the  hovels,  an  Indian  overheard  them  and  looked  out. 
One  of  the  men  thought  or  pretended  that  he  recognized  him. 
"  Curse  him !  he  is  the  one  that  killed  my  mother,"  he  shouted, 
and  firing  at  the  instant,  the  poor  wretch  fell  dead.  With  wild 
shouts,  the  ruffians  burst  into  the  cabins,  and  shot,  stabbed,  and 
butchered  the  inmates.  As  it  happened,  there  were  only  six 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  287 

Indians  in  the  settlement,  the  rest,  vagabonds  that  they  were, 
being  scattered  over  the  surrounding  country.  After  firing  the 
cabins,  the  fierce  Paxtonians  rode  rapidly  away,  freely  scattering 
the  news. 

In  an  hour  or  two  the  sheriff  of  Lancaster  arrived  on  the 
ground.  He  at  once  proceeded  to  collect  the  fourteen  other 
Indians  who  had  escaped  the  massacre  by  being  absent,  and 
lodged  them  in  the  Lancaster  jail  for  safety.  On  receipt  of  the 
news  at  Philadelphia,  the  government  at  once  offered  a  reward 
for  the  apprehension  of  the  murderers.  This  measure  inflamed 
the  Paxton  men  beyond  all  control.  On  December  27,  1763, 
they  started  to  Lancaster,  against  the  protests  of  the  cooler- 
headed  people  of  the  community,  with  the  purpose,  more  or  less 
understood  among  them,  of  breaking  into  the  jail  and  killing 
the  Indians  who  had  escaped  the  first  massacre. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  rioters,  all  heavily 
armed,  galloped  into  the  little  town  and  up  to  the  jail,  quickly 
burst  in  the  door,  and  made  their  way  to  the  Indians.  The 
latter  gathered  billets  of  wood  for  self-defense.  At  sight  of 
resistance  the  rioters  fired  into  the  crowd.  "  In  a  moment 
more,"  "says  Parkman,  "  the  yard  was  filled  with  the  ruffians, 
cursing  and  firing  upon  the  cowering  wretches,  holding  the 
muzzles  of  their  pieces,  in  some  instances,  so  near  their  victims' 
heads  that  the  brains  were  scattered  by  the  explosion.  The 
work  was  ^oon  finished.  The  bodies  of  men,  women,  and  chil 
dren,  mangled  with  outrageous  brutality,  lay  scattered  about 
the  yard,  and  the  rioters  were  gone." 

The  whole  country  was  thrown  into  an  uproar  by  this  event. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  government  was  offering  rewards  for  the 
apprehension  of  the  murderers ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  hardy 
frontiersmen  threatened  to  destroy  a  government  which  left 
them  to  their  fate,  and  branded  them  as  murderers  if  they  but 
defended  themselves.  The  sectarian  quarrel,  and  political  dis 
putes  concerning  inadequate  representation,  and  taxation  without 
protection,  filled  the  country  with  agitation  and  clamor. 

16 


288  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

To  Philadelphia  there  had  been  removed,  a  few  weeks  before 
the  Lancaster  affair,  a  community  of  Moravian  Indians  from 
Bethlehem,  in  order  to  save  them  from  the  fate  which  after 
wards  befell  the  Conestogas.  All  along  the  line  of  march  the 
refugees  had  been  insulted,  and  a  howling  mob  assaulted  them 
in  the  streets  of  Philadelphia.  They  were  protected  by  the 
Quakers,  and  afforded  shelter  and  food.  This  thing  was  remem 
bered  as  the  agitation  over  the  Paxton  matter  grew  greater  and 
greater.  Far  and  wide  through  the  frontier  borders,  the  notion 
sprang  up  of  proceeding  to  Philadelphia,  destroying  these  poor 
savages,  and  overturning  the  government. 

Towards  the  close  of  January,  a  force  of  from  five  hun 
dred  to  fifteen  hundred  desperate  borderers  started  on  this 
mission  to  Philadelphia.  They  expected  co-operation  from  the 
city  mob.  Rumor  had  anticipated  their  movement  by  several 
days,  and  thrown  the  city  of  Philadelphia  into  a  panic 
of  fear. 

The  first  resolution  was  to  send  the  Indians  away  to  New 
York.  The  execution  of  the  timid  plan  was  hastily  begun. 
Before  daybreak,  one  bitter  cold  January  morning,  the  half-clad 
Indians  filed  mournfully  through  the  streets  of  the  City  of 
Brotherly  Love.  The  report  of  their  removal  had  filled  the 
streets  with  a  howling  mob,  even  at  that  hour.  Under  the  pro 
tection  of  soldiers  little  less  hostile  than  the  mob  itself,  the 
unfortunate  and  shivering  Indians  commenced  their  march  on 
foot  to  New  York. 

Greeted  everywhere  by  the  curses  of  the  people,  the  sad 
children  of  the  forest  proceeded  as  far  as  Amboy,  where  they 
were  notified  by  the  governor  of  New  York  that  they  would  not 
be  allowed  to  enter  that  province,  and  that  an  attempt  to  do  so 
would  be  resisted  by  force.  For  some  days  the  poor  Indian 
converts  remained  in  the  barracks  at  Amboy,  engaged  almost 
constantly  in  singing  and  praying.  But  there  seemed  to  be  no 
resting-place  for  them  in  the  land  of  their  fathers.  The  gov 
ernor  of  New  Jersey  sent  a  message  requiring  them  to  leave 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAG.  291 

that    province    forthwith.     Beaten    from    pillar    to    post,   the 
unhappy  Indians  again  turned  their  faces  to  Philadelphia. 

The  return  of  the  Indians,  together  with  the  news  of  the 
approach  of  the  Paxton  men,  again  convulsed  the  city  with  appre 
hension,  discord,  and  fright.  A  large  element  in  the  city  openly 
declared  that  they  would  espouse  the  cause  of  the  borderers  if 
it  came  to  an  armed  conflict.  The  rest  of  the  inhabitants  took 
active  measures  for  defense.  The  Quakers  said  no  more  about 
non-resistance.  Barricades  were  thrown  up  in  the  streets,  cannon 
were  mounted,  patrol  guards  posted,  and  a  citizen  soldiery 
hastily  organized. 

At  two  o'clock  one  morning  the  wild  clangor  of  the  alarm 
bells  sent  a  shudder  to  every  heart.  By  previous  arrangement, 
every  window  was  filled  with  candles.  A  vast  multitude  of 
armed  citizens  surged  up  and  down  the  streets  of  the  city. 
The  alarm  proved  groundless.  The  rioters,  learning  the  recep 
tion  prepared  for  them,  advanced  no  nearer  than  Germantown. 
Here  they  were  visited  in  camp  by  many  citizens. 

A  compromise  treaty  was  drawn  up.  The  Paxton  men  con 
tented  themselves  with  presenting  elaborate  memorials  to  the 
assembly,  which  were  never  acted  on.  They  withdrew  to  their 
homes  without  having  accomplished  any  thing  further  than  to 
demonstrate  the  weakness  of  the  provincial  government,  and  the 
folly  of  all  doctrines  of  non-resistance.  As  for  the  city,  as  soon 
as  the  external  danger  was  removed,  the  rival  factions  engaged 
in  a  war  of  pamphlets  and  newspapers,  which  at  the  time  was 
one  of  the  most  serious,  but  now  appears .  as  one  of  the  most 
laughable,  disputes  in  American  history. 

With  this  outline  of  tne  border  wars  of  the  time  we  must 
be  content.  The  year  1764  witnessed  serious  military  efforts 
commensurate  with  the  undertaking  to  crush  the  Indian  power. 
Bradstreet  in  August  of  this  year  effected  the  relief  of  Detroit. 
The  weary  garrison,  after  a  siege  of  fifteen  months,  during  which 
they  had  been  cut  off  from  communication  with  the  rest  of  their 
race,  had  been  pent  up  in  rigorous  and  wearisome  confinement, 


292  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

had  contended  with  a  sleepless  and  powerful  foe,  had  subsisted 
on  scanty  and  wretched  food,  and  had  worn  their  clothes  thread 
bare,  were  at  last  relieved,  and  permitted  to  step  outside  the 
worn  and  hard  beaten  inclosure  of  the  palisade,  and  return,  to 
a  world  from  which  they  had  been  so  long  banished. 

In  the  south,  Bouquet,  at  the  head  of  a  strong  army,  pushed 
westward  from  Fort  Pitt,  compelled  the  Indian  tribes  every 
where  to  submit,  make  treaties  of  peace  and  surrender  their 
captives. 

On  a  certain  day  the  Indians  from  far  and  near  brought  their 
captives,  taken  during  many  years  of  warfare,  to  an  appointed 
rendezvous  for  their  surrender.  Thither  also  repaired  anxious 
throngs  of  settlers,  whose  relatives  and  friends  had  long  been 
missing.  The  scene  was  tragical.  The  long  lost  were  restored. 
Friend  recognized  friend ;  mothers  clasped  their  children  to 
their  eager  breasts.  There  was  great  joy.  There  was  ateo  great 
grief.  Many  persons  failed  to  find  the  faces  of  the  loved  ones 
sought.  Some  of  the  captives  had  their  hopes  crushed,  their 
hearts  broken  by  failing  to  meet  a  single  familiar  face. 

As  his  gigantic  conspiracy  crumbled  into  ruins,  Pontiac,  furi 
ous  as  a  lion  at  bay,  unconquered,  because  in  spirit  unconquer 
able,  placed  himself  in  person  among  the  Indians  of  what  are 
now  the  States  of  Indiana  and  Illinois,  rousing  them  by  his  indi 
vidual  influence  into  a  state  of  frenzy  and  warlike  wrath.  To 
defend  this  region,  over  which  still  waved  the  flag  of  France, 
into  which  no  English  foot  had  dared  to  penetrate,  he  resolved 
to  devote  all  of  his  great  and  desperate  energies.  French  traders, 
hostile  to  the  advance  of  the  English  which  would  destroy  their 
occupation,  practiced  on  his  ignorance  and  favorite  belief.  By 
means  of  forged  letters,  purporting  to  be  written  by  the  king 
of  France,  they  again  inspired  in  him  that  belief  which  was  the 
corner-stone  of  his  conspiracy,  namely,  that  France  would  lend 
him  her  powerful  aid  and  re-enforcement. 

Bent  on  this  idea,  Pontiac  presented  himself  to  the  French 
commander  at  St.  Louis,  and  demanded  arms  and  ammunition. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  CAPTIVES 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.        •  295 

The  Frenchman  tried  to  soften  his  refusal  by  presents  of  a  less 
warlike  character.  But  Pontiac  had  one  absorbing,  overmaster 
ing  ambition.  Whatever  ministered  to  that  ambition  he  desired 
and  demanded.  Whatever  did  not  minister  to  it  he  flung  aside 
as  unworthy  his  attention.  So  he  refused  the  presents  with 
angry  scorn  and  bitter  words. 

Still  the  resources  of  this  Napoleon  of  the  forest  were  not 
exhausted.  He  dispatched  an  embassy  all  the  way  to  New 
Orleans  to  demand  help  from  the  French  Government.  These 
ambassadors  also  carried  war-belts  to  the  distant  warriors  of 
Louisiana,  to  whom  the  name  and  fame  of  the  mighty  Pontiac 
were  as  the  sun  at  noon.  These  tribes  were  urged  at  every 
•cost  to  prevent  the  English  from  ascending  the  Mississippi, 
which  Pontiac's  military  genius  foresaw  they  would  attempt. 
In  this  he  was  right,  and  their  attempts  to  ascend  the  river 
were  completely  foiled. 

The  principal  mission  of  the  ambassadors  was,  however, 
a  complete  failure.  The  French  rule  was  just  about  to  give 
way  to  that  of  Spain,  to  whom  France  had  by  the  treaty  of 
Paris  resigned  Louisiana.  The  governor  interviewed  them  and 
explained  the  true  situation.  From  France  no  help  was  to  be 
expected. 

To  this  announcement  the  Indian  orator  made  a  reply  full  of 
the  most  cutting  sarcasm.  "  Since  we  last  sat  on  these  seats, 
our  ears  have  heard  strange  words.  When  the  English  told  us 
they  had  conquered  you,  we  always  thought  they  lied ;  but  now 
we  have  learned  that  they  spoke  the  truth.  We  have  learned 
that  you,  whom  we  have  loved  and  served  so  well,  have  given 
the  lands  that  we  dwell  upon  to  your  enemies  and  ours.  We 
have  learned  that  the  English  have  forbidden  you  to  send  traders 
to  our  villages  to  supply  our  wants,  and  that  you,  whom  we 
thought  so  great  and  brave,  have  obeyed  their  commands  like 
women,  leaving  us  to  starve  and  die  in  misery.  We  now  tell 
you  once  for  all  that  our  lands  are  our  own;  and  we  tell  you, 
moreover,  that  we  can  live  without  your  aid,  and  hunt,  and  fish, 


296  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

and  fight  as  our  fathers  did  before  us.  All  that  we  ask  of  youy 
is  this,  that  you  give  us  back  the  guns,  the  powder,  the  hatchets, 
and  the  knives  which  we  have  worn  out  in  fighting  your  battles. 
As  for  you,"  hissed  the  orator,  shaking  his  long  forefinger  at 
some  English  officers  who  were  present, — "as  for  you,  our  hearts 
burn  with  rage,  when  we  think  of  the  ruin  you  have  brought 


on  us." 


When  the  report  of  this  embassy  reached  Pontiac,  he  saw 
that  all  was  lost.  The  foundation  of  all  his  ambitious  schemes 
was  French  interference.  He  had  rested  on  a  delusion.  He 
had  believed  in  a  lie.  His  solitary  will,  which  had  controlled 
and  combined  into  co-operation  a  thousand  restless  tribes,  had 
breathed  life  into  a  conspiracy  continental  in  its  proportions,  and 
had  exploded  a  mine  ramifying  to  forts,  isolated  by  hundreds  of 
miles  of  unbroken  wilderness,  could  no  longer  uphold  the  crum 
bling  fabric.  His  stormy  spirit  had  warred  with  destiny,  and 
had  been  conquered. 

For  the  proud  Pontiac  there  remained  but  two  alternatives, 
destruction  or  submission.  With  a  hell  of  hate  in  his  heart,  he 
chose  the  latter.  Near  the  site  of  Lafayette,  Indiana,  he  met 
an  English  officer  and  formally  tendered  the  traditional  calumet 
of  peace.  He  proceeded  to  Detroit  with  his  diminished  retinue, 
and,  in  the  old  council-hall,  where  he  and  his  blanketed  chiefs 
had  attempted  to  destroy  the  garrison,  the  terms  of  the  peace 
were  arranged.  The  following  spring  he  visited  Sir  William 
Johnson,  at  his  castle  in  the  Mohawk  valley,  and  finally  con 
cluded  the  peace,  renouncing  forever  the  bold  ambition  by  which 
he  expected  to  avert  or  retard  the  ruin  of  his  race. 

From  this  time  he  disappears  from  the  historic  page,  only 
to  reappear  in  the  last  scene  in  the  eventful  drama  of  his  life. 
Of  his  movements  during  the  intervening  years  no  record  exists. 
He  is  known  to  have  planted  his  lodge,  and  to  have  hunted  and 
fished  like  a  common  warrior,  through  the  region  which  now 
forms  the  great  States  of  Indiana  and  Illinois. 

In  April,  1769,  he  appeared  at  St.  Louis,  and  made  a  two 


THE  AMBITION  OF  PONTIAC.  297 

days'  visit  on  his  old  friend,  St.  Ange,  who  was  still  command 
ant,  though  by  that  time  his  command  was  in  the  interest  of 
Spain.  On  the  second  day,  word  came  that  the  Indians  of  an 
Illinois  town,  across  the  river,  were  having  a  dance  and  carousal, 
and  Pontiac  announced  his  intention  of  going  over.  He  drank 
deeply,  and,  marching  down  the  street  into  the  forest,  sang  the 
medicine  song. 

An  English  trader  named  Williamson,  apprehensive  of  the 
proximity  of  such  a  mighty  chieftain  and  conspirator  as  Pontiac, 
and  especially  suspicious  on  account  of  his  visit  to  the  French 
at  St.  Louis,  resolved  to  dispatch  him  while  he  was  in  his  power. 
A  drunken  Illinois  Indian  was  bribed  with  liquor  to  watch  Pon 
tiac  as  he  left  the  place,  and  stealing  after  him  through  the 
forest,  to  kill  him.  The  assassin  carried  out  the  plan,  and  buried 
a  tomahawk  in  the  mighty  brain  in  which  all  ambitions  were 
dead  forever. 

Parkman,  the  great  chieftain's  biographer,  thus  closes  his 
work :  "  The  dead  body  was  soon  discovered,  and  startled  cries 
and  wild  howlings  announced  the  event.  The  word  was  caught 
up  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  the  place  resounded  with  infernal 
yells.  The  warriors  snatched  their  weapons.  The  Illinois  took 
part  with  their  guilty  countryman,  and  the  few  followers  of 
Pontiac,  driven  from  the  village,  fled  to  spread  the  tidings  and 
call  the  nations  to  revenge.  Meanwhile,  the  murdered  chief  lay 
in  the  spot  where  he  had  fallen,  until  St.  Ange,  mindful  of 
former  friendship,  sent  to  claim  the  body,  and  buried  it  with 
warlike  honors  near  his  fort  of  St.  Louis. 

"  Thus  basely  perished  this  champion  of  a  ruined  race.  But 
could  his  shade  have  revisited  the  scene  of  murder,  his  savage 
spirit  would  have  exulted  in  the  vengeance  which  overwhelmed 
the  abettors  of  the  crime.  Whole  tribes  were  rooted  out  to  ex 
piate  it.  Chiefs  and  sachems  whose  veins  had  thrilled  with  his 
eloquence,  young  warriors  whose  aspiring  hearts  had  caught  the 
inspiration  of  his  greatness,  mustered  to  revenge  his  fate ;  and, 
from  the  north  and  east,  their  united  bands  descended  on  the 


298  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

villages  of  the  Illinois.  Tradition  has  but  faintly  preserved  the 
memory  of  the  event ;  and  its  only  annalists,  men  who  held  the 
intestine  feuds  of  the  savage  tribes  in  no  more  account  than 
the  quarrels  of  panthers  or  wildcats,  have  left  but  a  meagre 
record.  Yet  enough  remains  to  tell  us  that  over  the  grave  of 
Pontiac  more  blood  was  poured  out  in  atonement  than  flowed 
from  the  hecatombs  of  slaughtered  heroes  on  the  corpse  of 
Patroclus ;  and  the  remnant  of  the  Illinois  who  survived  the 
carnage  remained  forever  after  sunk  into  utter  insignificance. 

"  Neither  mound  nor  tablet  marked  the  burial-place  of  Pon 
tiac.  For  a  mausoleum,  a  city  has  risen  above  the  forest  hero ; 
and  the  race  whom  he  hated  with  such  burning  rancor  trample 
with  unceasing  footsteps  over  his  forgotten  grave." 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  299 


CHAPTEH  VIII 

JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS. 

|HE  traveler  along  the  New  York  Central  railroad 
may  have  pointed  out  to  him,  near  the  town  of 
Amsterdam,  a  heavy  stone  mansion,  half  hidden 
from  view  by  a  grove  of  locust  trees.  The 
building  is  "Johnson  Castle,"  a  name  which  its 
owner  gave  it  one  hundred  and  forty  years  ago. 
Its  walls  are  thick  and  massive,  its  windows 
small  and  deep-set.  Though  extremely  odd  in 
its  architecture,  its  size  and  durability  still  give  it  just  rank  as 
a  fine  residence.  A  century  and  a  half  sit  lightly  on  its  shoul 
ders,  and,  barring  accidents,  it  will  survive  two  or  three  times 
that  period.  A  few  miles  away,  in  the  edge  of  Johnstown,  the 
curious  visitor  will  find  "  Johnson  Hall."  It  is  twenty  years 
younger  than  the  castle. 

A  visitor  describes  the  place  as  follows :  "Although  both 
house  and  grounds  have  been  greatly  altered  and  modernized, 
we  can  even  now  judge  well  what  they  must  have  been  origi 
nally.  The  hall  is  a  two-storied  double  mansion,  built  of  wood, 
in  the  most  substantial,  conscientious  manner,  with  raised  panels 
on  the  outside  in  imitation  of  stone.  It  was,  without  doubt,  in 
its  day  the  most  spacious  and  elegant  edifice  in  the  colony  out 
side  of  New  York  City.  The  hall  is  fully  fifteen  feet  wide,  and 
the  ceilings  over  twelve  feet  high,  surrounded  with  massive 
wooden  cornices  of  carved  work.  The  sides  of  the  rooms  are 
elegantly  wainscoted  with  pine  panels  and  heavy  carved  work. 
A  broad  staircase,  of  easy  ascent,  leads  from  the  lower  to  the 


300  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

upper  hall,  ornamented  with  massive  mahogany  balustrades, 
which  still,  at  every  foot,  bear  the  marks  of  the  tomahawk's 
hacking,  said  by  tradition  to  have  been  notched  there  by  Chief 
Brant  himself,  when  he  fled  the  valley  with  Sir  John  Johnson,  in 
1776,  "to  protect  the  house  from  the  torch  of  Indians,  who 
would  understand  and  respect  these  signs." 

"  Of  the  garden  and  nursery,  situated  to  the  south  of  the 
hall,  and  which  in  the  olden  times  were  the  delight  of  their  owner, 
and  the  pride  of  the  surrounding  country,  no  vestige  remains. 
Some  of  the  poplars,  however,  which  he  planted,  still  stand, 
green  and  vigorous.  The  hall  was  formerly  flanked  by  two 
stone  block-houses,  with  sundry  loop-holes  for  musketry  cut 
directly  under  the  eaves.  But  one  of  these — now  converted  into 
a  servants'  dwelling — yet  stands,  the  other  having  been  burned 
down  many  years  ago.  Of  the  stone  wall  which  surrounded  the 
whole  place  as  a  protection  against  attack,  but  little  now  remains. 

"A  subterranean  passage  formerly  led  from  the  main  build 
ing  to  the  block-house  on  the  left,  and  thence  another  communi 
cated  with  the  block-house  on  the  right  flank.  These  passages, 
however,  as  well  as  the  port-holes  in  the  remaining  block-house, 
have  been  filled  up.  Although  the  building  never  experienced 
a  siege,  yet  it  was  twice  fortified ;  once,  as  stated,  by  a  strong 
stone  rampart  in  1763,  and  again  in  1776." 

The  builder  and  original  proprietor  of  these  singular  and 
romantic  looking  mansions  was  Sir  William  Johnson,  Baronet. 
He  came  to  this  country  when  a  young  man,  without  title  or 
fortune.  Engaging  in  traffic  with  the  Indians,  Johnson,  by  dint 
of  great  natural  abilities,  which  were  assisted  rather  than 
retarded  by  a  coarse  nature,  made  money  in  large  quantities. 
In  1742  he  bought  from  the  Mohawk  Indians  a  large  tract  of 
the  richest  land  in  the  world,  lying  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
far-famed  Mohawk  valley.  To  this  he  added  by  yearly  pur 
chases,  until  he  became  the  wealthiest  man,  and,  next  to  the 
Penns,  the  largest  landed  proprietor  in  America.  The  "  castle  " 
was  his  residence  throughout  the  year,  until  he  built  the  "  hall," 


A  GUEST  AT  JOHNSON  HALL. 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHA  WKS.  303 

in  1763,  which  he  occupied  as  a  summer  residence,  using  the 
older  mansion  only  in  winter. 

Four  or  five  years  after  he  built  the  castle,  the  wife  of  Colonel 
Johnson,  as  he  was  then  called,  a  plain,  fair-haired  German  girl,  of 
humble  lineage,  died,  leaving  her  husband  one  boy,  John,  and  two 
baby  daughters.  One  day  the  widower  attended  a  muster  of 
the  county  militia.  As  an  officer  came  riding  by  on  a  prancing 
steed,  a  bright-eyed,  red-cheeked  Indian  girl  of  sixteen,  a  real 
beauty,  with  her  white  teeth,  long,  flowing,  black  hair,  and  a 
form  of  rare  symmetry  and  grace,  laughingly  bantered  him  for 
a  ride.  The  officer  told  her  she  might  jump  on  if  she  could. 
Quick  as  flash  the  agile  girl  leaped  on  the  horse  behind  the 
gallant  rider,  and  clinging  to  him,  her  hair  and  ribbons  blowing 
wildly  in  the  breeze,  rode  round  and  round  on  the  flying  steed 
before  the  applauding  crowd.  One  man  took  more  than  ordinary 
interest  in  the  incident.  It  was  the  susceptible  and  lonely  wid 
ower.  That  night  Mollie  Brant,  for  such  was  the  name  of  the 
dusky  beauty,  went  home  with  the  baronet  to  Johnson  Castle, 
becoming  thenceforth  the  mistress  alike  of  it  and  its  proprietor. 

The  two  motherless  daughters  were  assigned  apartments 
of  their  own,  where  they  lived  in  complete  seclusion  under  the 
care  of  a  devoted  friend  of  their  mother,  an  officer's  widow. 
Their  time  was  occupied  with  needle-work  or  study.  Their 
library  consisted  of  the  Bible  and  prayer-book,  a  lot  of  the 
ponderous  romances,  which  mark  the  beginning  of  the  English 
novel,  and  Hollin's  "  Ancient  History."  A  game  of  chess,  a 
walk  in  the  park  or  a  drive  up  the  valley,  constituted  their  only 
amusements.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  they  had  never  seen  a  lady 
other  than  their  governess.  Occasionally  some  gentleman  vis 
itor  found  his  way  to  Johnson  Hall.  This  was  a  rare  treat  to 
the  lonely  girls,  to  whom  such  a  guest  was  always  presented. 
They  married  early,  and  their  father  built  for  them  two  elegant 
stone  residences  a  few  miles  from  the  castle. 

Far  different  from  this  conventual  life  of  the  two  sisters 
was  that  led  below  stairs  by  the  baronet.  From  the  first,  Sir 


304  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

William,  as  we  will  call  him,  though  the  title  was  not  conferred 
by  the  king  until  the  French  and  Indian  War,  acquired  great 
influence  over  the  warriors  of  the  far-famed  Six  Nations.  He 
had  located  himself  in  the  heart  of  the  territory  of  the  Mo 
hawks,  the  most  easterly  of  the  Iroquois  nations.  Thoroughly 
understanding  the  Indian  character,  he  won  their  confidence 
and  attained  an  ascendancy  in  their  councils  which  no  other 
white  man  ever  approximated.  The  negotiations  of  the  British 
Government  with  the  Iroquois  were  all  carried  on  through  him. 
The  castle  was  his  store-house,  where  all  the  wonderful  supplies 
of  guns,  ammunition,  and  trinkets  were  kept  for  trade.  Around 
the  castle  were  clusters  of  cabins  for  the  accommodation  of 
Indians  who  came  to  trade. 

Sir  William  kept  a  bounteous  table,  open  to  every  comer, 
and  dispensed  his  hospitality  in  lord-like  style.  The  Indians 
would  visit  him  day  and  night,  sleeping  in  the  halls,  on  the 
steps,  or  in  the  cabins,  as  suited  their  fancy,  and  faring  on 
their  host's  sumptuous  provision  for  days  at  a  time.  The  nat 
ural  genius  of  the  man  for  controlling  the  restless  red  men, 
and  bending  their  rigid  natures  to  his  will,  was  powerfully 
supplemented  by  his  rather  questionable  alliance  with  Mollie 
Brant.  She  was  immensely  popular,  possessed  a  shrewd  intelli 
gence,  and  herself  acquired  great  influence  over  her  people. 

The  baronet,  moreover,  by  this  connection,  for  it  was  not 
a  marriage,  won  the  hearts  of  the  warriors.  His  castle,  to 
which  they  were  always  delighted  to  come,  was  looked  up  to 
as  the  splendid  establishment  of  one  of  their  own  people.  As 
they  exchanged  their  valuable  furs  for  the  wares  of  the  baronet, 
the  heavy  profit  which  went  into  his  pocket  was,  they  felt,  well 
earned  by  the  free  and  easy  manner  with  which  he  treated 
them.  In  winter,  the  baronet  often  humored  them  by  arraying 
himself  in  Indian  disguise — war-paint,  feathers,  and  tomahawk, 
complete — and  living  with  them  for  weeks  at  a  time  as  one  of 
their  own  braves.  His  word  once  given  them,  whether  a  threat 
or  a  promise,  was  kept  inviolate. 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  305 

His  vast  landed  estate  was  parceled  out  among  Dutch  and 
Highland  tenantry,  who  were  as  devoted  to  his  interests  as 
the  Indians  themselves.  "Nature  had  well  fitted  him,"  says  a 
writer,  "  for  the  position  in  which  his  propitious  stars  had  cast 
his  lot.  His  person  was  tall,  erect,  and  strong ;  his  features, 
grave  and  manly.  His  direct  and  upright  dealings,  his  courage, 
eloquence,  and  address  were  sure  passports  to  favor  in  Indian 
eyes. 

"He  had  a  singular  facility  of  adaptation.  In  the  camp  or 
at  the  council-board,  in  spite  of  his  defective  education,  he  bore 
himself  as  became  his  station ;  but  at  home  he  was  seen  drink 
ing  flip  and  smoking  tobacco  with  the  Dutch  boors,  his  neigh 
bors,  talking  of  improvements  or  the  price  of  beaver-skins  ;  and  * 
in  the  Indian  villages  he  would  feast  on  dog's  flesh,  dance  with 
the  warriors,  and  harangue  his  attentive  auditors  with  all  the 
dignity  of  an  Iroquois  sachem.  His  temper  was  genial,  he 
encouraged  rustic  sports,  and  was  respected  and  beloved  alike 
by  whites  and  Indians. 

"His  good  qualities,  however,  were  alloyed  with  defects. 
His  mind  was  as  coarse  as  it  was  vigorous ;  he  was  vain  of  his 
rank  and  influence,  without  any  scruples  of  delicacy  as  to  pro 
claiming  them.  Eager  and  ambitious  in  pushing  his  own  resist 
less  way,  he  trampled  beneath  his  iron  heel  whomsoever  might 
cross  his  pathway." 

Before  proceeding  to  the  story  which  forms  the  more  imme 
diate  subject  of  this  chapter,  it  may  be  well  to  speak  more  at 
length  than  we  have  heretofore  done  of  the  far-famed  Iroquois, 
among  whom  Sir  William  Johnson  lived,  and  over  whom  he 
exerted  such  a  commanding  influence.  Francis  Parkman  gives 
the  following  eloquent  summary  of  their  tragic  history : 

"Foremost  in  war,  foremost  in  eloquence,  foremost  in  their 
savage  arts  of  policy,  stood  the  fierce  people  called  by  them 
selves  the  Hodenosaunee,  and  by  the  French  the  Iroquois,  a 
name  which  has  since  been  applied  to  the  entire  family,  of  which 
they  formed  the  dominant  member.  They  extended  their  con- 


306  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

quests  and  their  depredations  from  Quebec  to  the  Oarolinas,  and 
from  the  western  prairies  to  the  forests  of  Maine.  On  the 
south,  they  forced  tribute  from  the  subjugated  Dela  wares,  and 
pierced  the  mountain  fastnesses  of  the  Cherokees  with  inces 
sant  forays.  On  the  north,  they  uprooted  the  ancient  settle 
ments  of  the  Wyandots.  On  the  west,  they  exterminated  the 
Eries  and  the  Andastes,  and  spread  havoc  and  dismay  among 
the  tribes  of  the  Illinois ;  and  on  the  east,  the  Indians  of  New 
England  fled  at  the  first  peal  of  the  Mohawk  war-cry. 

"  Nor  was  it  the  Indian  race  alone  who  quailed  before  their 
ferocious  valor.  All  Canada  shook  with  the  desolating  fury  of 
their  onset;  the  people  fled  to  the  forts  for  refuge;  the  blood- 
besmeared  conquerors  roamed  like  wolves  among  the  burning 
settlements,  and  the  youthful  colony  trembled  on  the  brink  of 
ruin. 

"  The  Iroquois,  in  some  measure,  owed  their  triumphs  to  the 
position  of  their  country ;  for  they  dwelt  within  the  present 
limits  of  the  State  of  New  York,  whence  several  great  rivers 
and  the  inland  oceans  of  the  northern  lakes  opened  ready  thor 
oughfares  to  their  roving  warriors  through  all  the  adjacent 
wilderness.  But  the  true  fountain  of  their  success  is  to  be 
sought  in  their  own  inherent  energies,  wrought  to  the  most  effect 
ive  action,  under  a  political  fabric  well  suited  to  the  Indian 
life ;  in  their  mental  and  moral  organization ;  in  their  insatiable 
ambition  and  restless  ferocity. 

"  In  their  scheme  of  government,  as  in  their  social  customs 
and  religious  observances,  the  Iroquois  displayed,  in  full  sym 
metry  and  matured  strength,  the  same  characteristics  which  in 
other  tribes  are  found  distorted,  withered,  decayed  to  the  root, 
or,  perhaps,  faintly  visible  in  an  imperfect  germ.  They  con 
sisted  of  five  tribes  or  nations,  the  Mohawks,  the  Oneidas,  the 
Onondagas,  the  Cayugas,  and  the  Senecas,  to  whom  a  sixth,  the 
Tuscaroras,  was  afterwards  added. 

"  To  each  of  these  tribes  belonged  an  organization  of  its 
own.  Each  had  several  sachems,  who,  with  the  subordinate 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  309 

chiefs  and  principal  men,  regulated  all  its  internal  affairs ;  but 
when  foreign  powers  were  to  be  treated  with,  or  matters  involv 
ing  the  whole  confederacy  required  deliberation,  all  the  sachems 
of  the  several  tribes  convened  in  general  assembly  at  the  great 
council-house  in  the  valley  of  Onondaga.  Here  ambassadors 
were  received,  alliances  were  adjusted,  and  all  subjects  of  gen 
eral  interest  discussed  with  exemplary  harmony.  The  order  of 
debate  was  prescribed  by  time-honored  customs ;  and,  in  the 
fiercest  heat  of  controversy,  the  assembly  maintained  its  iron 
self-control. 

"But  the  main  stay  of  Iroquois  polity  was  the  system  of 
totemship.  It  was  this  which  gave  the  structure  its  elastic 
strength;  and  but  for  this,  a  mere  confederacy  of  jealous  and 
warlike  tribes  must  soon  have  been  rent  asunder  by  shocks 
from  without  or  discord  from  within.  At  some  early  period,  the 
Iroquois  must  have  formed  an  individual  nation,  for  the  whole 
people,  irrespective  of  their  separation  into  tribes,  consisted  of 
eight  totemic  clans;  and  the  members  of  each  clan,  to  what 
nation  soever  they  belonged,  were  mutually  bound  to  one 
another  by  those  close  ties  of  fraternity  which  mark  this  sin 
gular  institution. 

"Thus  the  five  nations  of  the  confederacy  were  laced 
together  by  an  eight-fold  band;  and  to  this  hour  their  slender 
remnants  cling  to  one  another  with  invincible  tenacity.  The 
Iroquois  had  no  laws,  but  they  had  ancient  customs,  which  took 
the  place  of  laws.  Each  man,  or  rather  each  clan,  was  the 
avenger  of  its  own  wrongs;  but  the  manner  of  the  retaliation 
was  fixed  by  established  usage.  The  tribal  sachems,  and  even 
the  great  council  at  Onondaga,  had  no  power  to  compel  the  exe 
cution  of  their  decrees;  yet  they  were  looked  up  to  with  a 
respect  which  the  soldier's  bayonet  or  the  sheriff's  staff  would 
never  have  commanded ;  and  it  is  highly  to  the  honor  of  the 
Indian  character  that  they  could  exact  so  great  an  authority  where 
there  was  nothing  to  enforce  it  but  the  weight  of  moral  power. 

"  The  superiority  of  the  intellect  of  the    Iroquois  was  as 


310  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

marked  as  that  of  their  political  organization.  The  energy  of 
their  fancy  displayed  itself  in  that  peculiar  eloquence  which 
their  wild  democracy  tended  to  call  forth,  and  to  which  ,the 
mountain  and  the  forest,  the  torrent  and  the  storm,  lent  their 
stores  of  noble  imagery.  That  to  this  imaginative  vigor  was 
joined  mental  power  of  a  different  stamp,  is  witnessed  by  the 
caustic  irony  of  Garangula  and  Sagoyewatha,  and  no  less  by  the 
subtle  policy,  sagacious  as  it  was  treacherous,  which  marked  the 
dealings  of  the  Iroquois  with  surrounding  tribes. 

"  Their  dwellings  and  wrorks  of  defense  were  far  from  con 
temptible,  either  in  their  dimensions  or  in  their  structure;  and 
though  by  the  several  attacks  of  the  French,  and  especially  by 
the  invasion  of  De  Nonville,  in  1687,  and  of  Frontenac,  nine 
years  later,  their  fortified  towns  were  leveled  to  the  earth,  never 
again  to  reappear;  yet  in  the  works  of  Champlain  and  other 
early  writers,  we  find  abundant  evidence  of  their  pristine  condi 
tion.  Along  the  banks  of  the  Mohawk,  among  the  hills  and 
hollows  of  Onondaga,  in  the  forests  of  Oneida  and  Cayuga,  on 
the  romantic  shores  of  Seneca  Lake,  and  the  rich  borders  of 
the  Genesee,  surrounded  by  waving  maize  fields,  and  encircled 
from  afar  by  the  green  margin  of  the  forest,  stood  the  ancient 
strongholds  of  the  confederacy.  The  clustering  dwellings  were 
encompassed  by  palisades,  in  single,  double,  or  triple  rows, 
pierced  with  loop-holes,  furnished  with  platforms  within,  for  the 
convenience  of  the  defenders,  with  magazines  of  stones,  to  hurl 
upon  the  heads  of  the  enemy,  and  with  water  conductors  to 
extinguish  any  fire  which  might  be  kindled  from  without. 

"  The  area  which  these  defenses  inclosed  was  often  several 
acres  in  extent,  and  the  dwellings,  ranged  in  order  within,  were 
sometimes  more  than  a  hundred  feet  in  length.  Posts,  firmly 
driven  into  the  ground,  with  an  intervening  frame-work  of  poles, 
formed  the  basis  of  the  structure;  and  its  sides  and  arched  roof 
were  closely  covered  with  layers  of  elm  bark.  Each  of  the 
larger  dwellings  contained  several  distinct  families,  whose  sep 
arate  fires  were  built  along  the  central  space,  while  compart- 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  311 

ments  on  each  side,  like  the  stalls  of  a  stable,  afforded  some 
degree  of  privacy.  Here  rude  couches  were  prepared,  and  bear 
and*  deer  skins  spread ;  while  above,  the  ripened  ears  of  maize, 
suspended  in  rows,  formed  a  golden  tapestry. 

"In  the  long  evenings  of  midwinter,  when  in  the  wilderness 
without  the  trees  cracked  with  biting  cold,  and  the  forest  paths 
were  clogged  with  snow,  then,  around  the  lodge-fires  of  the  Iro- 
quois,  warriors,  squaws,  and  restless,  naked  children  were  clus 
tered  in  social  groups,  each  dark  face  brightening  in  the  fickle 
firelight,  while,  with  jest  and  laugh,  the  pipe  passed  round  from 
hand  to  hand.  Perhaps  some  shriveled  old  warrior,  the  story 
teller  of  the  tribe,  recounted  to  attentive  ears  the  deeds  of 
ancient  heroism,  legends  of  spirits  and  monsters,  or  tales  of 
witches  and  vampires — superstitions  not  less  rife  among  this 
all-believing  race  than  among  the  nations  of  the  transatlantic 
world. 

"  The  life  of  the  Iroquois,  though  void  of  those  multiplying 
phases  which  vary  the  routine  of  civilized  existence,  was  one 
of  sharp  excitement  and  sudden  contrast.  The  chase,  the  war 
path,  the  dance,  the  festival,  the  game  of  hazard,  the  race  of 
political  ambition,  all  had  their  votaries.  When  the  assembled 
sachems  had  resolved  on  war  against  some  foreign  tribe,  and 
when,  from  their  great  council-house  of  bark,  in  the  Valley  of 
Onondaga,  their  messengers  had  gone  forth  to  invite  the  warriors 
to  arms,  then  from  east  to  west,  through  the  farthest  bounds  of 
the  confederacy,  a  thousand  warlike  hearts  caught  up  the  sum 
mons  with  glad  alacrity.  With  fasting  and  praying,  and  con 
sulting  dreams  and  omens ;  with  invoking  the  war-god,  and 
dancing  the  frantic  war-dance,  the  warriors  sought  to  insure  the 
triumph  of  their  arms;  and,  these  strange  rites  concluded,  they 
began  their  stealthy  progress,  full  of  confidence,  through  the 
devious  pathways  of  the  forest. 

"For  days  and  weeks,  in  anxious  expectation,  the  villagers 
await  the  result.  And  now,  as  evening  closes,  a  shrill,  wild 
cry,  pealing  from  afar,  over  the  darkening  forest,  proclaims  the 

17 


312  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

return  of  the  victorious  warriors.  The  village  is  alive  with 
sudden  commotion;  and  snatching  sticks  and  stones,  knives  and 
hatchets,  men,  women,  and  children,  yelling  like  fiends  let  loose, 
swarm  out  of  the  narrow  portal,  to  visit  upon  the  miserable 
captives  a  foretaste  of  the  deadlier  torments  in  store  for  them. 
And  now,  the  black  arches  of  the  forest  glow  with  the  fires  of 
death ;  and  with  brandished  torch  and  firebrand  the  frenzied 
multitude  close  around  their  victim.  The  pen  shrinks  to  write, 
the  heart  sickens  to  conceive,  the  fierceness  of  his  agony ;  yet 
still,  amid  the  din  of  his  tormentors,  rises  his  clear  A7oice  of 
scorn  and  defiance.  The  work  is  done ;  the  blackened  trunk  is 
flung  to  the  dogs,  and,  with  clamorous  shouts  and  hootings,  the 
murderers  seek  to  drive  away  the  spirit  of  their  victim. 

"The  Irpquois  reckoned  these  barbarities  among  their  most 
exquisite  enjoyments ;  and  yet  they  had  other  sources  of  pleas 
ure,  which  made  up  in  frequency  and  in  innocence  all  that  they 
lacked  in  intensity.  Each  passing  season  had  its  feasts  and 
dances,  often  mingling  religion  with  social  pastime.  The  young 
had  their  frolics  and  merry-makings;  and  the  old  had  their  no 
less  frequent  councils,  where  conversation  and  laughter  alter 
nated  with  grave  deliberations  for  the  public  weal.  There  were 
also  stated  periods,  marked  by  the  recurrence  of  momentous 
ceremonies,  in  which  the  whole  community  took  part — the  mys 
tic  sacrifice  of  the  dogs,  the  wild  orgies  of  the  dream-feast,  and 
the  loathsome  festival  of  the  exhumation  of  the  dead.  Yet,  in 
the  intervals  of  war  and  hunting,  these  multiform  occupations 
would  often  fail;  and,  while  the  women  were  toiling  in  the 
cornfields,  the  lazy  warriors  vainly  sought  relief  from  the  scanty 
resources  of  their  own  minds,  and  beguiled  the  hours  with  smok 
ing  or  sleeping,  with  gambling  or  gallantry. 

"If  we  seek  for  a  single  trait  pre-eminently  characteristic 
of  the  Iroquois,  we  shall  find  it  in  that  boundless  pride  which 
impelled  them  to  style  themselves,  not  inaptly  as  regards  their 
own  race,  'the  men  surpassing  all  others.'  'Must  I/  exclaimed 
one  of  their  great  warriors,  as  he  fell  wounded  among  a  crowd 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  313 

of  Algonquins, — 'must  I,  who  have  made  the  whole  earth  trem 
ble,  now  die  by  the  hands  of  children?'  Their  power  kept  pace 
with  their  pride.  Their  war-parties  roamed  over  half  America, 
and  their  name  was  a  terror  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Missis 
sippi  ;  but,  when  we  ask  the  numerical  strength  of  the  dreaded 
confederacy,  when  we  discover  that,  in  the  days  of  their  great 
est  triumphs,  their  united  cantons  could  not  have  mustered  four 
thousand  warriors,  we  stand  amazed  at  the  folly  and  dissension 
which  left  so  vast  a  region  the  prey  of  a  handful  of  bold 
marauders.  Of  the  cities  and  villages  now  so  thickly  scattered 
over  the  lost  domain  of  the  Iroquois,  a  single  one  might  boast 
a  more  numerous  population  than  all  the  five  united  tribes." 

Before  leaving  the  history  of  the  Iroquois,  it  is  possible  to 
give  the  account  of  their  terrible  destruction  of  the  Eries,  which 
is  said  to  have  been  handed  down  by  their  traditions.  This 
mighty  tribe,  which,  prior  to  their  subjugation,  far  exceeded  in 
strength  any  other  single  tribe  of  Indians,  lived  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  lake  which  bears  their  name.  Their  chief  town, 
Tushuway,  occupied  the  site  of  the  modern  city  of  Buffalo. 
Jealous  of  the  great  confederacy  to  the  eastward  of  them,  the 
proud  Eries  sent  a  challenge  to  the  Senecas,  their  nearest  neigh 
bors,  for  a  game  of  ball  between  one  hundred  young  men  from 
each  tribe.  The  great  council  of  the  Five  Nations  deliberated 
upon  the  challenge,  and  decided  to  decline  it. 

The  next  year  the  "  Lords  of  the  Lake  "  renewed  the  chal 
lenge.  It  was  again  declined.  A  repetition  of  it  the  third  year 
so  inflamed  the  younger  warriors  of  the  Five  Nations,  that  the 
challenge  was  reluctantly  accepted.  One  hundred  braves,  the 
very  flower  of  the  confederacy,  armed  with  nothing  but  the 
small  bat,  used  in  ball-playing,  and  commanded  by  a  chief  of 
approved  experience,  marched  away  through  the  forest  to  the 
city  of  the  Eries.  A  vast  pile  of  furs,  bracelets,  beads,  silver, 
and  copper  was  to  be  the  stake. 

The  eventful  day  arrived.     The  great  Eries  far  excelled  the 
more  timid  young  men  from  the  Five  Nations  in  their  self-con- 


314  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

fidence.  But  the  superiority  went  no  farther.  After  a  despe 
rate  contest  the  Iroquois  bore  off  the  prizes.  The  chief  of  the 
chagrined  Eries  at  once  challenged  the  visitors  to  a  foot-race, 
with  ten  runners  on  a  side.  The  Iroquois  accommodated  him, 
and  were  again  victorious.  As  a  last  trial  of  skill,  the  Erie 
chieftain  proposed  to  select  ten  wrestlers  to  be  matched  against 
an  equal  number  from  the  ranks  of  the  visitors,  the  victorious 
antagonist,  in  each  case,  to  dispatch  his  adversary  on  the  spot, 
by  braining  him  with  a  tomahawk  and  scalping  him.  This 
bloody  proposal  was  assented  to  by  the  Iroquois  with  altered 
countenances. 

The  first  pair  of  wrestlers  struggled  furiously.  The  Iro 
quois  finally  threw  his  opponent  on  the  ground,  but  refused  to 
kill  him.  In  a  moment  the  angry  chief  of  the  Eries  flung  his 
own  tomahawk  revolving  through  the  air  and  with  unerring  aim 
scattered  the  brains  of  his  defeated  kinsman  on  the  soil  of  the 
arena.  Another  pair  of  champions  from  the  rival  sides  then 
grappled  for  the  conflict.  Again  victory  was  achieved  by  the 
strangers.  Again  the  victor  refused  to  strike  his  fallen  foe. 
Again  the  Erie  chieftain,  black  and  choking  with  a  tempest  of 
rage,  killed  the  vanquished  brave  with  his  own  hand.  A  third 
time  the  singular  scene  took  place.  This  was  the  last.  At  a 
signal  from  their  leader,  the  well-disciplined  Iroquois  suddenly 
withdrew  from  the  field,  and,  taking  their  canoes,  returned 
home  to  relate  their  victories  and  the  strange  customs  of  their 
hosts. 

The  Eries  at  once  resolved  on  war.  The  confederacy,  on 
the  other  hand,  prepared  for  defense.  Three  thousand  war 
riors  and  a  thousand  reserves  rode  with  nodding  plumes  into 
the  forest  to  meet  their  foes.  The  two  armies  met  half-way 
between  Canandaigua  Lake  and  the  Genesee  River.  The  battle 
raged  with  indescribable  fury.  The  Eries  saw  too  late  that 
their  enemies,  too  weak  to  cope  with  them  single-handed,  had 
combined  against  them,  and  that  it  was  no  longer  a  fight  for 
glory,  but  a  struggle  for  existence.  Hour  after  hour,  far  into 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  315 

nightfall,  the  awful  carnage  proceeded.  With  unyielding  cour 
age  and  invincible  obstinacy  the  doomed  Eries,  like  the  Spartans 
of  old,  refused  to  fly,  but  fought  to  the  bitter  end,  preferring 
death  on  the  battle-field  to  survival  of  defeat.  The  battle 
was  lost. 

The  victors,  like  avenging  demons,  pushed  on  to  the  Erie 
strongholds.  Using  their  canoes  for  scaling  ladders,  the  mad 
dened  Iroquois,  insane  with  the  delirium  of  victory,  leaped 
down  like  tigers,  and  butchered  the  defenders  without  mercy. 
For  the  Eries  it  was  not  merely  defeat.  It  was  destruction. 
The  proud  people  were  literally  destroyed  from  the  face  of  the 
earth.  To-day  nothing  remains  to  tell  us  that  they  ever  existed, 
except  the  name  of  ERIE,  which  the  generations  of  men  still 
give  to  the  blue  inland  sea  along  whose  shores. they  flourished 
and  then  fell  forever. 

Such  also  was  the  fate  of  the  noble  Hurons,  the  Neutral 
Nation,  and  the  Wyandots. 

Thus,  within  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  century,  four  nations, 
the  most  brave  and  powerful  of  the  North  American  savages, 
sank  before  the  arms  of  the  confederates.  Nor  did  their  tri 
umphs  end  here.  Within  the  same  short  space  they  subdued 
their  southern  neighbors,  the  Lenape  or  Delawares,  the  leading 
members  of  the  Algonquin  family,  and  expelled  the  Ottawas,  a 
numerous  people  of  the  same  lineage,  from  the  borders  of  the 
river  which  bears  their  name.  In  the  north,  the  west,  and  the 
south,  their  conquests  embraced  every  adjacent  tribe ;  and  mean 
while,  their  war-parties  were  harassing  the  French  of  Canada 
with  reiterated  inroads,  and  yelling  the  war-whoop  under  the 
very  walls  of  Quebec. 

They  were  the  worst  of  conquerors.  Inordinate  pride,  the 
lust  of  blood  and  dominion,  were  the  mainsprings  of  their  war 
fare,  and  their  victories  were  stained  with  every  excess  of  savage 
passion.  That  their  triumphs  must  have  cost  them  dear ;  that, 
in  spite  of  their  cautious  tactics,  these  multiplied  conflicts  must 
have  greatly  abridged  their  strength,  would  appear  inevitable. 


316  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Their  losses  were,  in  fact,  considerable;  but  every  breach  was 
repaired  by  means  of  a  practice  which  they,  in  common  with 
other  tribes,  constantly  adhered  to. 

When  their  vengeance  was  glutted  by  the  sacrifice  of  a  suffi 
cient  number  of  captives,  they  spared  the  lives  of  the  remainder 
and  adopted  them  as  members  of  their  confederated  tribes,  sep 
arating  wives  from  husbands  and  children  from  parents,  and 
distributing  them  among  different  villages,  in  order  that  old  ties 
and  associations  might  be  more  completely  broken  up.  This 
policy,  as  Schoolcraft  informs  us,  was  designated  among  them 
by  a  name  which  signifies  "flesh  cut  into  pieces  and  scattered 
among  the  tribes." 

With  two  explanations,  we  resume  the  thread  of  the  story, 
interrupted  to  relate  the  history  and  character  of  the  Iroquois. 
A  southern  tribe,  the  Tuscaroras,  having  been  expelled  from 
their  former  home,  came  north,  upon  the  invitation  of  their  old 
allies,  the  Five  Nations,  and  were  received  into  the  confederacy, 
which,  from  that  time,  became  the  "  Six  Nations."  Although 
the  Iroquois  had  been  such  as  we  have  related,  it  is  to  be 
remembered  that  they  had  been  greatly  weakened  by  successive 
wars,  and  at  the  time  of  Sir  William  Johnson,  though  still  pow 
erful,  the  "  Six  Nations  "  were  very  far  from  being  what  they 
had  once  been. 

From  early  times  the  Iroquois  were  allies  of  the  English  and 
Dutch  colonists  of  the  coast.  Through  them  the  confederacy 
procured  fire-arms  and  ammunition  far  earlier  than  other  nations, 
and  by  this  means  their  power  was  infinitely  increased.  In 
return  they  constituted  themselves  a  sort  of  police  for  the  colo 
nies  against  other  tribes  of  Indians.  They  had  early  come  in 
conflict  with  the  French,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  story  of  La 
Salle,  and  their  prejudices  were  for  the  English.  But  the  latter, 
by  long  years  of  neglect  and  aggression,  lost  their  advantage. 

When  the  French  and  Indian  war  broke  out,  the  Six  Nations 
were  strongly  disposed  to  join  their  red  brethren  in  a  war  which 
was  to  drive  the  white  man  out  of  the  country  which  he  had 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  317 

wrongfully  invaded.  That  they  did  not  do  so  was  solely  owing 
to  the  ascendancy  and  influence,  the  earnest  eloquence,  the  tire 
less  efforts,  the  superb  diplomacy  of  Sir  William  Johnson.  For 
his  sake  they  buried  the  hatchet.  Such  an  important  figure  did 
the  British  Government  find  him,  that  he  was  appointed  Indian 
commissioner  for  the  North,  a  position  which  he  held  for  twenty 
years,  rendering  heroic  and  invaluable  service  to  England.  He 
was  further  made  baronet,  and  received  vast  grants  of  land,  as 
a  reward  for  his  work  during  the  war.  When  Pontiac,  "the 
archangel  fallen,"  planned  his  gigantic  conspiracy,  the  baronet 
again  needed  all  his  influence  and  resources  to  hold  the  confed 
eracy  to  its  alliance  with  England.  Indeed,  the  Senecas,  far 
thest  removed  from  his  influence,  did  get  away  from  him  and 
join  the  conspiracy. 

From  1763  Sir  William  lived  in  ease,  his  immense  posses 
sions  multiplying  year  by  year.  But  a  struggle  was  coming,  in 
which  it  would  have  been  as  difficult  for  him  to  choose  his  own 
side  as  for  his  Indian  allies  themselves.  The  volcanic  fires  of 
the  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION  were,  at  the  time  of  which  we  write, 
shooting  their  forks  of  flame  upward  through  the  fissures  in  the 
political  and  social  crust.  Which  side  should  he  take?  Should 
he,  on  the  one  hand,  turn  traitor  to  the  government  which  he 
had  served  so  long,  and  from  which  he  had  received  such  abun 
dant  favors?  Or  should  he,  on  the  other  hand,  let  loose  the 
thunderbolts  of  savage  warfare  which  he  held  within  his  grasp, 
upon  the  struggling  colonists,  his  neighbors,  friends,  and  coun 
trymen,  who  were  so  clearly  in  the  right?  He  never  gave  his 
final  decision. 

Deeply  disturbed  at  the  approaching  crisis,  and  perhaps 
lacking  the  nerve  which  had  belonged  to  the  earlier  years  of 
his  strange  life,  the  great  baronet  gave  way  to  his  anxieties,  and 
died  suddenly  in  the  summer  of  1774.  The  belief  was  wide 
spread  at  the  time  that  his  sudden  death  was  the  work  of  his 
own  hand. 

The  zeal  of  Sir  William  Johnson  for  the  improvement  of  his 


318  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Mohawk  neighbors  had  planted  churches  and  sent  missionaries 
among  them.  More  than  this,  he  selected  promising  youths 
from  the  Mohawk  nation,  and  sent  them  to  be  educated  at  a 
school  in  Lebanon,  Connecticut. 

Women  are  often  designing,  and  use  their  influence  over  men 
for  their  own  purposes.  It  is  natural  to  find  that  Mistress 
Mollie  Brant  made  use  of  her  influence  with  the  baronet  to 
further  the  interests  of  her  brother  Joseph.  He  was  born  about 
1742,  and  became  a  lad  of  unusual  precocity.  Of  course  he 
became  the  recipient  of  Sir  William's  bounty.  He  was  sent  to 
the  school  at  Lebanon.  He  was  employed  by  the  baronet  in  the 
discharge  of  his  multitudinous  duties  as  Indian  commissioner. 
He  acted  as  interpreter,  he  labored  to  carry  out  his  master's 
notions  concerning  his  people,  and  he  was  often  sent  on  long 
journeys  to  the  wild  Indians  of  the  west.  In  this  work  he  early 
exhibited  rare  diplomatic  ability. 

Nor  was  this  all.  His  precociousness  and  talent  were  turned 
to  the  assistance  of  the  missionaries.  The  smart  heathen  helped 
to  prepare  translations  of  portions  of  the  Bible,  and  of  the 
prayer  book  and  ritual,  into  the  Mohawk  tongue.  With  a 
readiness  which  is  suspicious,  he  joined  the  Episcopal  Church. 
So  zealous  was  Joseph  in  the  observance  of  the  forms  of  wor 
ship,  and  in  partaking  of  the  sacraments  of  the  Church,  that 
enthusiastic  friends  pointed  him  out  as  a  model  Christian. 

As  he  took  the  rank  which  his  lineage  and  his  native  abilities 
alike  insured  him,  these  good  missionaries  predicted  that  he 
would  absolutely  lift  his  people  out  of  their  savage  state  and 
transform  them  into  solid  citizens.  No  doubt  they  expected  the 
wild  Mohawk  warriors  to  lay  aside  their  filthy  blankets,  and  don 
knee-breeches,  silk  stockings,  knee-buckles,  and  powdered  wigs, 
all  on  account  of  Joseph.  He  lived  much  of  the  time  with  Sir 
William,  and  was  devotedly  attached  to  him.  His  Indian  name 
was  Thayendanegea,  of  which  "  Brant "  was  a  translation. 

At  the  time  of  the  baronet's  death,  Brant  was  a  powerful 
Mohawk  sachem.  The  title  and  much  of  the  property  of  Sir 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  319 

William  went  to  Sir  John  Johnson,  the  only  son  of  the  dead 
baronet.  Guy  Johnson,  the  son-in-law,  became  Indian  commis 
sioner.  To  him  Joseph  Brant  became  private  secretary.  By 
means  of  their  great  wealth  and  family  prestige,  Sir  John  and 
Guy  Johnson  naturally  inherited  much  of  the  influence  of  Sir 
William  over  the  Six  Nations.  This  influence  was  greatly 
strengthened  by  the  attachment  of  Brant. 

Meanwhile,  the  colonies  were  hurrying  forward  to  a  crisis. 
The  spirit  of  patriotism  entered  into  and  possessed  the  people. 
Resistance  to  tyranny,  free-trade,  and  self-government  became 
the  catch-words  of  the  hour.  The  struggling  colonies,  hitherto 
a  mere  outlying  and  uninfluential  province  of  a  great  empire, 
suddenly  felt  themselves  assuming  a  vast  and  startling  import 
ance  before  the  eyes  of  mankind. 

Political  discussion  became  loud  and  heated.  The  people 
found  themselves  ranged  into  two  hostile  parties.  The  great 
majority  were  patriots.  They  believed  in  the  colonies  having 
justice,  though  the  heavens  fell.  These  were  the  Whigs. 
There  was  also  another  party,  a  minority,  who  retained  their  old 
attachment  to  England.  They  justified  the  home  government. 
They  abused  the  Whigs.  They  were  opposed  to  revolution  and 
even  to  agitation.  They  were  the  Conservatives,  or  Tories. 
The  lines  between  these  two  parties  were  very  clearly  marked 
out.  The  warfare  was  bitter.  The  same  party  lines  exist  in 
every  epoch  of  progress.  They  are  the  Radicals  and  Conserva 
tives.  The  one  demands  a  change,  a  reform,  a  revolution.  The 
latter  cries  out,  "  Let  be  ;  let  well  enough  alone ;  peace !  peace !" 
when  there  is  no  peace. 

These  party  dissensions  extended  to  the  Mohawk  valley. 
As  elsewhere,  there  were  Whigs  and  Tories.  The  majority  of 
the  people  were  enthusiastic  Whigs.  They  wished  to  better 
their  condition.  They  were  therefore  Radicals. 

The  Johnsons,  however,  were  Tories.  Property  and  aristoc 
racy  are  conservative.  The  wealthy  few  who  are  on  top  are 
comfortable.  They  are  averse  to  change.  They  desire  only 


320  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

that  things  remain  as  they  are.  If  you  touch  them  they 
scream.  This  is  natural,  but  it  is  selfish.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  many  who  are  underneath,  want  to  take  the  risk  and  make 
a  change.  They  have  nothing  to  lose  and  every  thing  to  gain. 
This  also  is  natural,  but  selfish. 

Sir  John  Johnson  held  a  title  of  nobility  under  the  British 
crown.  Gruy  Johnson  held  the  lucrative  office  of  Indian  com 
missioner  under  the  same  government.  They  had  vast  posses 
sions.  They  lived  in  baronial  splendor  in  magnificent  stone 
castles,  from  whose  turrets  the  eye  swept  over  an  estate, 
stretching  many  miles  along  the  lovely  valley,  and  supporting 
a  vast  tenant  population.  These  gentlemen,  therefore,  were 
strongly  conservative.  What  cared  they  for  a  tax  of  a  few 
cents  on  tea  ?  Their  dinner  table  would  not  be  thereby  deprived 
of  the  steaming  tea-pot.  What  was  it  to  them  if  troops  were 
quartered  in  Boston?  It  cost  them  nothing.  So  they  wanted 
things  to  continue  as  they  were. 

As  the  times  became  more  violent  and  explosive,  the  colo 
nists  instinctively  felt,  rather  than  foresaw,  that  war  was  inevit 
able.  In  case  this  should  come  to  pass,  the  leading  men  also 
rightly  foresaw  that  the  western  tribes  of  Indians,  always  ready 
to  strike  a  blow  at  the  white  invaders,  would  seize  the  oppor 
tunity  to  assail  the  colonies  on  the  west,  while  England  would 
levy  war  on  the  Canada  frontier  and  along  the  coast.  While 
the  attitude  of  the  western  Indian  was  thus  certainly  hostile  and 
dangerous,  that  of  the  Six  Nations  was  more  a  matter  of  doubt. 
From  the  earliest  times,  the  Iroquois,  with  the  single  exception 
of  the  Senecas,  during  the  war  of  Pontiac,  had  been  allies  of 
the  colonies  and  therefore  of  England.  To.  which  would  the 
Indian  allies  incline  if  the  colonies  engaged  in  war  with 
England  ? 

Both  parties  to  the  contest  saw  that  the  alliance  of  the  Six 
Nations  was  a  strategic  point.  The  powerful  influence  of  the 
Johnsons  and  of  Brant  might  be  confidently  counted  on  by 
England.  The  colonies  relied  mainly  on  the  old  friendship,  and 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHA  WKS.  321 

the  influence  of  the  patriotic  missionaries.  They  hoped  simply 
that  the  Iroquois  would  remain  neutral.  The  Oneidas  early 
took  "this  position.  In  May,  1775,  their  chiefs  wrote  to  the 
governor  of  New  York,  "You  are  two  brothers  of  one  blood. 
We  are  unwilling  to  join  on  either  side  in  such  a  contest,  for 
we  bear  an  equal  affection  to  both  Old  and  New  England. 
Should  the  great  king  of  England  apply  to  us  for  aid,  we  shall 
deny  him ;  if  the  colonies  apply  we  shall  refuse.  The  present 
situation  of  you  two  brothers  is  new  and  strange  to  us.  We 
Indians  can  not  find,  nor  recollect,  in  the  traditions  of  our 
ancestors,  the  like  case  or  a  similar  instance." 

Both  British  and  Americans  were  busily  engaged  in  fever 
ish  preparations  for  war.  Sir  John  Johnson  constructed  heavy 
fortifications  around  his  castle.  Guy  Johnson,  alarmed  at  the 
popular  threatenings,  raised  a  band  of  several  hundred  Mohawk 
warriors,  headed  by  Brant,  and  re-enforced  by  the  leading  chiefs 
of  the  Senecas,  Cayugas,  and  Onondagas.  With  this  force  he 
fled  to  Oswego  and  then  to  Canada,  leaving  his  splendid  man 
sion  desolate  and  unoccupied. 

The  colonies,  on  the  other  hand,  issued  a  call  for  a  grand 
council  at  Albany,  in  August.  The  meeting  was  attended  very 
thinly,  except  by  the  Oneidas,  and  the  Lower  clan  of  the 
Mohawks.  However,  the  representatives  of  the  colonial  con 
gress  made  speeches,  urging  the  Six  Nations  to  remain  neutral. 
A  treaty  to  that  affect  was  made,  but  it  amounted  to  little. 

On  their  return  home,  a  plague  broke  out  among  the 
Mohawks.  Like  all  ignorant  people,  they  regarded  it  as  a  vis 
itation  from  the  Great  Spirit.  They  believed  that  he  was 
angry  for  their  desertion  of  the  cause  of  the  king.  Supersti 
tion  is  both  blind  and  deaf.  It  has  neither  eyes  to  look  at 
facts,  nor  ears  to  listen  to  argument.  It  transforms  a  man  into 
a  mummy.  The  Mohawks  were  superstitious.  Many  of  them 
at  once  joined  Brant's  forces.  A  few,  however,  of  the  Lower 
clan  still  remained  neutral.  Probably  they  were  not  much 
troubled  with  the  plague. 


322  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

As  a  price  of  their  neutrality  they  demanded  one  thing, 
that  Sir  John  Johnson  be  left  at  his  house  in  peace.  This  gen 
tleman  on  his  part  bound  himself  by  agreement  to  remain  neu 
tral.  This  promise  was  a  sham.  He  remained  in  his  fortified 
castle  with  a  strong  force  of  Indians  and  tenantry.  He 
intrigued  incessantly  to  excite  the  remaining  Iroquois  to  a 
revolt.  He  carried  on  constant  correspondence  with  leading 
Tories.  In  other  words,  he  was  a  spy. 

The  colonies  resolved  to  arrest  him.  Troops  were  dispatched 
up  the  Mohawk  Valley  for  that  purpose.  A  messenger  was 
sent  in  advance  to  quiet  the  nerves  of  the  excitable  Iroquois. 
In  this  way  Sir  John  heard  of  the  plan  for  the  seizure  of  his 
person.  He  hurriedly  buried  his  treasure  in  the  garden,  and, 
regretfully  leaving  his  splendid  home,  plunged  into  the  wilder 
ness  with  a  band  of  retainers,  to  make  his  way  to  Canada. 
After  nineteen  days  of  hardship  and  suffering  the  proud  baronet, 
ragged,  footsore,  and  starved,  with  such  remnant  of  his  fam 
ished  followers  as  had  not  fallen  by  the  weary  wayside,  arrived 
at  Montreal.  Such  are  the  vicissitudes  of  war ! 

Meanwhile,  Joseph  Brant  had  been  advanced  to  the  position 
of  principal  war-chief  of  the  Six  Nations.  Around  his  standard 
rallied  the  dark  warriors  of  the  great  confederacy,  in  whose 
veins  ran  the  blood  of  the  most  terrible  fighters  among  the 
American  Indians.  Thayendanegea  was  a  fit  leader  for  them. 
He  was  tall,  erect,  and  majestic,  with  the  manners  and  bearing 
of  a  king  of  men.  He  was  distinguished  alike  for  his  courage 
and  his  intelligence,  for  his  prowess  as  a  warrior  and  his  skill 
as  a  diplomate.  His  name  was  a  tower  of  strength  among  the 
nations  of  the  confederacy.  While  in  native  genius  and  origi 
nality  of  intellect  he  was  inferior  to  Powhatan,  Philip,  and  Pon- 
tiac,  he  knew  more  of  the  world  than  either  of  his  great  prede 
cessors.  If  he  was  not  inspired  by  the  burning  loyalty  to  his 
race,  by  the  lofty  ambitions  and  purposes  of  the  two  latter,  he 
at  least  had  a  much  wider  education  and  range  of  ideas.  If  he 
was  less  of  an  Indian,  he  was  more  of  a  white  man. 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  32$ 

Although  Thayendanegea  had  pledged  himself  to  the  cause 
of  the  king,  he  still  hesitated  to  take  up  the  hatchet.  The 
Americans  opened  the  campaign  in  Canada  with  a  brilliant  vic 
tory.  Our  Indian  friend  had  an  eye  to  the  main  chance.  He 
sailed  for  England  in  the  winter  of  1775-6  to  interview  the 
king,  and,  no  doubt,  with  a  view  to  forming  an  estimate  of  the 
war  strength  of  the  English.  The  wily  war-chief  wanted  to  be 
on  the  winning  side. 

On  his  arrival  in  London  he  was  conducted  to  a  rather 
obscure  inn,  called  "  The  Swan  with  the  Two  Necks."  State 
lier  lodgings  were  soon  provided  for  the  great  "  Indian  king," 
as  the  Englishmen  called  him.  But  Brant  politely  declined, 
declaring  that  the  kind  treatment  of  his  host  at  "  The 
Swan"  had  won  his  heart,  so  that  he  could  not  think  of  leav 
ing  him. 

In  this  Joseph  showed  his  innocence.  He  mistook  the 
broad  smile  and  hearty  handshake,  which  forms  such  an  impor 
tant  part  of  the  landlord's  stock  in  trade,  for  the  genuine  article. 
•If  he  was  taken  in  by  the  patronizing  airs  of  the  shrewd  tavern- 
keeper,  Brant  showed  no  other  sings  of  verdancy.  He  dressed 
in  European  clothing.  His  courtly  manners  and  clear-cut  En 
glish  caused  the  throng  of  titled  men  and  jeweled  women  who 
sought  his  company  and  pressed  upon  him  the  honors  of  the 
capital  to  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  this  lordly  gentleman  of  for 
eign  accent  and  distinguished  air  was,  in  fact,  a  red-fisted  savage, 
accustomed  to  lead  his  yelling  band  of  braves  to  midnight  mas 
sacres,  a  man  whose  flashing  tomahawk  eagerly  brained  the 
fallen  foe,  and  whose  nervous  fingers  had  often  clutched  the 
bloody  scalps  of  his  victims. 

When  he  appeared  at  court  on  visits  of  business  or  ceremony, 
he  laid  aside  his  European  habit,  and  wore  a  gorgeous  costume 
of  the  fashion  of  his  own  people.  Bands  of  silver  encircled 
his  sinewy  arms.  Tall  plumes  adorned  his  head-dress,  and 
highly  colored  fabrics,  hung  with  copper  pendants,  formed  his 
clothing.  A  glittering  tomahawk  and  a  scalping-knife  dangled 


324  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

carelessly  from  his  belt.  On  such  occasions  he  attracted  the 
greatest  attention. 

Of  course,  the  magnificent  entertainments  and  presents  which 
were  pressed  upon  the  war-chief  of  the  Six  Nations,  together 
with  the  material  splendor  of  England,  the  dazzling  pageantry 
of  the  court,  and  the  soldiery,  with  their  equipment  of  cannon, 
small  arms,  ammunition,  uniforms,  and-  all  the  accoutrements  of 
war,  made  a  profound  impression  on  his  mind.  When  he  sailed 
for  America  in  April,  he  had  pledged  himself  and  his  people  to 
the  cause  of  England  in  her  conflict  with  the  colonies. 

He  and  his  six  hundred  warriors  in  Canada  at  once 
joined  the  British  army,  and  commenced  vigorous  hostilities. 
The  great  majority  of  the  Iroquois  still  remained  in  their 
ancient  seats  in  the  Mohawk  valley,  and  seemed  peaceably 
inclined  to  the  colonists.  The  people  of  the  frontier  built 
block-houses  and  organized  parties  of  rangers  for  self-defense. 
They  kept  scouts  constantly  on  the  watch  for  an  Indian  out 
break.  The  isolated  settlers  moved  into  towns.  At  Cherry 
Valley,  the  most  exposed  point,  the  inhabitants,  daily  excited  by 
the  news  of  the  battles  of  the  Revolution,  were  deeply  anxious 
about  the  Indians.  But  month  after  month  rolled  by,  and  the 
Iroquois  still  lingered  idly  in  their  wigwams. 

In  the  spring  of  1777  Brant  reappeared  in  the  Mohawk 
valley.  -The  influence  of  the  great  war-chief  at  once  made 
itself  felt  in  the  remotest  wigwam.  Carefully  concealing  his 
plans,  he  commenced  collecting  an  enormous  war-party  at  the 
Indian  town  of  Oghkwaga.  There  were  further  indications,  as 
the  excited  and  patriotic  Whig  settlers  thought,  of  a  Tory  upris 
ing,  in  connection  with  Brant's  movement.  On  June  15th, 
General  Herkimer  reached  Cherry  Valley  with  a  force  of  three 
hundred  local  militia.  He  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  Brant, 
and  determined  to  have  an  interview  with  him.  The  meeting 
was  near  Unadillo. 

On  the  first  day  Brant  threw  off  the  mask,  and  declared 
himself  as  a  soldier  of  the  king.  By  agreement,  the  conference 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  325 

was  to  be  resumed  in  the  morning.  That  night  Herkimer  laid 
a  dark  plot  to  massacre  the  chief  and  his  few  attendants  when 
they  returned  to  his  camp  the  following  day.  Brant,  however, 
was  up  to  such  tricks.  At  the  appointed  hour  he  appeared  in 
Herkimer's  camp  with  fiVe  hundred  picked  warriors,  plumed  and 
painted  for  war.  The  raw  recruits  with  Herkimer  were  com 
pletely  in  the  power  of  the  Indians.  With  a  haughty  gesture 
Brant  said,  "You  may  go."  The  colonists  took  the  hint,  and 
went — at  the  highest  possible  speed. 

At  Cherry  Valley  the  people  selected  the  strongest  house  for 
a  fort,  surrounding  it  with  embankments.  Near  this  place  the 
road  ran  along  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  A  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  below  lay  a  gloomy  glen,  filled  with  a  dense  growth  of 
evergreens.  In  this  lonely  spot,  Brant  and  a  half-dozen  braves 
hid  in  ambush.  Late  one  afternoon,  a  gallant  young  colonial 
officer,  "well-mounted,  and  clad  in  a  suit  of  ash-colored  velvet," 
spurred  out  of  the  settlement  along  the  road  by  the  glen  on 
some  errand  of  war.  A  few  moments  after  the  gentleman  had 
left  the  village,  the  sharp  crack  of  rifles  was  heard  from  the 
direction  of  the  glen,  and  shortly  the  young  officer's  horse  came 
galloping  back,  riderless,  and  the  saddle  crimsoned  with  blood. 

A  party  of  armed  men  at  once  started  out  to  solve  the 
mystery.  Not  till  the  following  day,  however,  did  they  find 
the  lifeless  body  of  the  gay  lieutenant,  gay  no  longer,  but 
rather  pale,  mangled,  and  bloody.  Brant,  however,  withdrew 
after  this  murder,  without  attacking  Cherry  Valley.  He  was 
deceived  as  to  the  strength  of  the  place  by  some  false  dis 
patches  found  by  him  on  the  person  of  a  captive  whom  he 
secured  near  the  settlement.  The  man  carried  double  dis 
patches,  and,  when  captured,  was  smart  enough  to  destroy  the 
genuine  and  surrender  the  bogus  documents. 

While  the  settlers  were  being  daily  horrified  by  these  and 
a  hundred  other  isolated  deeds  of  violence,  information  was 
brought  them  by  friendly  Indians  and  scouts  of  an  impending 
danger  of  much  greater  magnitude.  As  Burgoyne  descended 


326  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

from  the  north  along  Lakes  Champlain  and  George,  Colonel 
Barry  St.  Leger,  with  Thayendanegea's  wild  warriors,  was  to 
rendezvous  at  Oswego,  and  then  sweep  down  the  Mohawk  valley 
from  the  west,  conquering  and  destroying,  and  form  a  junction 
with  Burgoyne  at  Albany,  whence  the  united  armies  would 
descend  the  Hudson.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  valley,  on  a 
strategic  spot  on  the  carrying  path  which  led  from  the  Mohawk 
River  to  Wood  Creek,  stood  Fort  Schuyler.  Wood  Creek 
flowed  into  Oneida  Lake,  from  which  the  Oswego  River  led 
into  Lake  Ontario.  The  carrying  path  between  the  Mohawk 
and  Wood  Creek  was  thus  the  only  interruption  which  the  war 
canoes  of  the  Iroquois  would  meet  in  their  voyage  from  Oswego 
to  Albany.  The  carrying  path  was  the  door  to  the  Mohawk 
valley.  Fort  Schuyler  was  the  lock  on  the  door.  To  unlock 
that  door  was  the  first  task  of  Colonel  Barry  St.  Leger  and 
Thayendanegea. 

Fort  Schuyler  was  an  old  fortification,  originally  built  by 
the  British  during  the  French  and  Indian  War,  at  an  enormous 
expense.  It  was  not  a  mere  block-house,  nor  a  stockade,  but, 
as  originally  laid  out,  was  a  regular  fort,  costing  over  a  quarter 
of  a  million  of  dollars.  It  was  square,  with  a  bastion  at  each 
corner.  It  had  had  the  traditional  moat  or  ditch,  the  glacis 
or  earth  embankment,  and  the  draw-bridge.  A  covered  way  led 
to  a  spring.  In  the  center  of  the  ditch  had  been  planted  rows 
of  pickets.  In  the  interior  was  constructed  what  was  supposed 
to  be  a  bomb-proof  citadel.  On  one  side,  the  fortification  was 
further  protected  by  a  swamp.  But  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
Revolution  the  old  fort  was  a  miserable  ruin.  The  ditch  was 
filled  up.  The  draw-bridge  had  fallen  to  pieces.  The  rows  of 
pickets  consisted  of  nothing  but  rotten  stumps,  projecting  a  foot 
or  so  from  the  ground.  The  ground  about  the  fort,  which  had 
been  cleared  with  infinite  trouble  of  every  obstruction  which 
might  afford  a  cover  to  the  enemy,  was  once  more  overgrown 
with  a  dense  forest,  which  flung  its  shadows  over  the  decaying 
fortification. 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  327 

In  the  spring  of  1777,  Colonel  Gansevoort  took  command  of 
the  feeble  and  sickly  garrison.  Such  men  as  were  able  to  work 
were  employed  in  placing  the  fort  in  a  defensible  state.  But 
their  feeble  labors  made  slight  impression  on  the  old  ruin.  The 
commandant  ceased  not  to  write  for  re-enforcements  and  sup 
plies.  On  the  4th  of  July,  when  St.  Leger's  plan  was  already 
made  known,  the  place  was  still  in  a  deplorable  condition.  Can 
non  there  were,  but  not  a  ball  in  the  magazine.  The  rifle  balls 
on  hand  were  too  large  for  the  fire-locks,  and  there  were  no 
moulds  to  make  others.  The  supply  of  powder  was  dangerously 
small.  As  for  provision,  a  quantity  of  spoiled  beef,  sufficient, 
perhaps,  for  six  weeks,  formed  the  larger  part  of  the  supplies. 

From  time  to  time,  small  re-enforcements  had  reached  the 
fort,  until  the  garrison  was  something  over  five  hundred  men. 
Of  these,  a  hundred  and  fifty  were  employed  in  cutting  and 
hauling  timber  to  repair  the  fort  and  to  build  an  obstruction  in 
the  channel  of  Wood  Creek.  As  many  more  were  required  to 
keep  guard  over  the  workmen,  for  the  woods  were  infested  by 
hostile  Indians.  Others  still  were  out  on  scouting  and  foraging 
parties,  so  that  the  fort  proper  was  left  with  scarcely  a  man 
behind  the  ramparts. 

One  morning  two  officers  went  gunning,  to  secure,  if  possible, 
some  untainted  meat.  A  mile  and  a  half  from  the  fort  they 
were  fired  upon.  Madison  was  killed  outright,  but  Gregg  was 
only  wounded.  The  Indians  sprang  forward  to  secure  the  scalp. 
Gregg,  with  incomparable  grit,  feigned  death,  and  endured  the 
horrible  pain  of  being  scalped,  without  the  quiver  of  a  muscle, 
or  the  utterance  of  a  groan. 

Some  fishermen,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  were  that  after 
noon  disturbed  by  a  dog,  who  bounded  toward  them,  and  by 
lamentable  howls,  and  every  sign  of  distress,  attracted  their 
attention.  The  poor  animal  would  run  a  short  distance  into  the 
forest,  and  seeing  they  did  not  follow,  would  return  and  pull  at 
their  clothing,  as  if  asking  them  to  come  with  him.  The  men's 
suspicions  were  aroused,  and  they  started  to  follow  the  dog, 

18 


328  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

who  at  once  gave  a  yelp  of  joy.     Every  time  the  men  stopped 
he  would  resume  his  supplications. 

At  last  the  men  reached  the  spot  where  lay  the  dog's  fallen 
master,  Captain  Gregg,  still  breathing,  but  stupefied  from  pain 
and  loss  of  blood.  They  bore  him  to  the  fort,  with  the  corpse 
of  his  companion,  followed  by  the  faithful  dog,  who  had  seen  his 
master's  need.  Gregg  afterwards  recovered. 

On  another  day  sixteen  of  the  garrison  were  out  cutting 
turf,  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  away.  All  at  once  they 
discovered  a  party  of  thirty  or  forty  Indians  coming  toward 
them  at  a  rapid  run.  The  men  turned  to  fly.  Only  nine  men 
reached  the  fort.  Of  these,  two  were  badly  wounded;  a  third 
was  dying  in  the  arms  of  his  companions. 

This  was  not  all.  On  the  3d  of  July,  a  little  girl  ran 
screaming  toward  the  fort,  with  a  basket  in  her  hand,  and  her 
calico  frock  stained  with  blood.  She  and  two  others  of  her  age 
had  been  picking  berries  in  the  neighborhood.  The  other  chil 
dren  had  been  killed,  while  she  herself  was  wounded,  though 
slightly. 

While  the  garrison  of  Fort  Schuyler  were  thus  preparing,  as 
well  as  they  could,  for  the  coming  storm,  of  which  the  indica- 
cations  were  so  clear,  the  friendly  Oneidas  looked  on  the 
approach  of  Brant  with  as  much  uneasiness  as  the  whites  them 
selves.  Their  neutrality  had  incurred  the  wrath  of  the  other 
tribes,  and  they  feared,  not  without  reason,  that  the  indiscrimi 
nate  fury  of  the  invaders  might  involve  them  in  destruction. 
They  ceased  not  to  urge  the  colonies  to  send  prompt  and  power 
ful  succor  to  Fort  Schuyler.  Ticonderoga  had  fallen  before 
Burgoyne  without  the  firing  of  a  shot.  "  The  chiefs  "  wrote  the 
Oneidas,  with  cutting  directness,  "  desire  the  commanding  officers 
of  Fort  Schuyler  not  to  make  a  Ticonderoga  of  it." 

On  the  2d  of  August,  a  re-enforcement  of  two  hundred 
men,  with  two  bateaux  of  provision,  reached  Fort  Schuyler. 
The  supplies  were  hurried  into  the  fort  as  fast  as  possible,  for 
the  enemy  was  expected  at  any  moment.  All  scouting  and 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  329 

repairing^  parties  had  been  called  into  the  fort.  The  time  for 
further  strengthening  their  defenses  was  gone.  The  siege  was 
about  to  begin.  As  the  boats  were  just  emptied  of  their  cargoes, 
and  the  last  armfuls  were  being  hurried  into  the  fort,  the  sava 
ges  burst  from  the  forest  with  loud  yells.  The  captain  of  the 
expedition,  with  drawn  sword,  hurried  his  men  forward.  Too 
brave  to  t^iter  the  fort  before  his  men,  he  remained  to  the  last, 
and  was  unfortunately  made  prisoner. 

The  siege  was  begun.  Inside  the  fort  were  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  men,  with  supplies  and  ammunition  for  six  weeks,  and 
no  longer.  But  *the  garrison  was  without  a  flag !  In  this 
emergency  stripes  of  white  from  officer's  shirts,  of  blue  from  a 
cloak  captured  from  the  enemy,  and  of  red  from  some  ragged 
sashes,  were  sewed  together,  and  the  patchwork  run  up  on  the 
flag-staff.  The  besieging  army  numbered  some  seventeen  hun 
dred,  composed  of  one  thousand  warriors  under  Thayendanegea, 
together  with  some  Hessian  and  Canadian  troops.  They  at  once 
threw  up  redoubts  for  their  batteries  and  commenced  active 
hostilities. 

Meanwhile,  General  Herkimer  was  marching  to  the  relief  of 
the  defenders  of  Fort  Schuyler,  at  the  head  of  eight  hundred 
militia-men,  from  the  anxious  settlements  farther  .down  the  val 
ley.  Thayendanegea  was  kept  constantly  informed  of  Herkimer's 
movements.  He  repeated  the  stratagem  which  had  resulted  in 
the  destruction  of  Braddock's  army  and  brought  Bouquet's 
entire  command  so  near  to  death. 

A  few  miles  below  the  fort,  the,  Albany  road,  along  which 
Herkimer  was  advancing,  crossed  a  low  marsh  by  means  of  a 
causeway.  Just  at  this  point  the  road  was  intersected  by  an 
immense  lateral  ravine,  rv  depression.  Here,  with  devilish 
sagacity,  Thayendanegea  amoushed  his  dark  followers.  They 
were  arranged  in  a  circle,  in  which  a  narrow  segment  was  left 
open  at  the  bridge,  for  the  militia-men  to  enter  the  trap.  As 
soon  as  the  main  body  had  crossed  the  bridge,  a  band  of  war 
riors  rushed  in  to  close  the  gap  of  the  circle,  completely  inclos- 


330  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ing  the  colonists,  with  the  exception  of  the  rear  guard,  consist 
ing  of  about  sixty  men,  and  the  supply  train,  which  had  not 
entered  the  causeway. 

A  frightful  struggle  ensued.  Herkimer  was  wounded  at  the 
first  fire.  Propped  against  the  foot  of  a  tree,  with  a  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  the  brave  old  man  continued  to  command  his  men.  From 


THE  PATTLE  NEAR  FORT  SCHUYLER. 

every  side  the  savages  poured  in  the  most  galling  fire.  Every 
where  that  the  men  attempted,  like  wild  beasts  at  bay,  to  break 
through  the  fatal  lines  which  encircled  them,  they  were  beaten 
back  with  fearful  slaughter.  The  men  got  stuck  in  the  mire, 
and  the  vast  boa-constrictor,  which  had  wound  its  fearful  coils 
about  them,  began  to  tighten.  Yet  many  of  the  men  fought 
bravely. 

Observing  that  a  savage,  waiting  till  a  colonist  had  dis 
charged  his  gun  from  behind  some  tree,  would  rush  forward 
and  tomahawk  him  before  he  could  reload,  they  placed  two  men 
behind  each  tree,  one  reserving  his  fire.  Finding  themselves 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  331 

pressed  on  all  sides,  the  militia-men  disposed  themselves  in  a 
circle.  It  was  a  small  wheel  within  a  larger  one. 

Just  as  the  Indians  charged  on  their  foes  with  desperate 
valor,  to  conquer  them  at  the  point  of  the  murderous  bayonet, 
a  fearful  thunder-storm  broke  over  the  dark  field  of  battle. 
The  trees  of  the  forest  writhed  in  the  fury  of  the  tempest. 
Unearthly  bolts  of  lightning,  followed  by  peal  after  peal  of  sky- 
splitting  thunder,  lent  horror  to  the  scene.  In  a  moment  a 
mighty  flood  of  waters  burst  forth  from  the  surcharged  clouds. 
The  conflict  of  men  became  puny  in  comparison  with  the  con 
flict  of  the  elements.  The  noise  of  battle  was  but  a  stillness 
contrasted  with  the  awful  roar  of  the  storm.  The  awed  com 
batants  desisted.  The  dark  clans  of  Thayendanegea  withdrew 
in  sullen  rage  to  the  sheltering  distance. 

The  tempest,  however,  gradually  subsided.  Not  so  the  fierce 
passions  of  the  men.  The  Indians  renewed  the  onset,  re-enforced 
by  a  detachment  of  Johnson's  "  Greens."  These  were  American 
Tories.  Many  of  them  were  friends,  or  even  relatives  of  the 
members  of  the  colonial  militia.  In  the  close  hand  to  hand 
fighting  these  foes  recognized  each  other.  With  the  fiercest 
rage  these  enemies  flew  at  each  others'  throats  like  tigers. 

War  is  horrible.  Civil  war  is  awful.  These  neighbors  and 
acquaintances  grappled  each  other,  kicking,  biting,  stabbing,  each 
refusing  to  let  go  of  his  antagonist  until,  at  last,  some  fatal  thrust 
opened  the  ruddy  door  through  which  the  spirit  took  its  flight. 
As  a  ruse  de  guerre,  another  detachment  of  Greens  hurried  for 
ward  to  the  front  with  hats  disguised  as  Americans.  The  men 
were  about  to  receive  them  as  friends  from  the  fort,  when  the 
counterfeit  was  at  the  last  moment  discovered. 

A  militia-man  ran  forward  to  give  his  eager  hand  to  an 
'  acquaintance.  The  hand  was  grasped,  but  not  in  friendship. 
The  Tory  sought  to  make  his  verdant  friend  a  prisoner.  In 
the  struggle,  Captain  Gardenier,  of  the  colonial  forces,  sprang 
forward  and  felled  the  would-be  captor  to  the  ground.  Several 
Greens  set  on  him,  the  first  falling  dead,  the  second  severely 


332  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

wounded.  His  spur  catching  in  the  clothes  of  one,  threw  Gar- 
denier  to  the  ground.  A  bayonet  was  just  entering  his  breast, 
when  the  brave  man  seized  it,  and,  with  a  terrific  effort,  dragged 
his  opponent  down,  and  used  him  as  a  shield  from  the  blows  of 
two  other  assailants.  One  of  the  militia-men  now  ran  to  his 
relief.  As  his  foes  turned  on  the  new  enemy,  Gardenier  sprang 
to  his  feet,  and  buried  his  sword  in  the  body  of  the  man  whom 
he  had  dragged  down.  This  was  but  one  of  a  thousand  indi 
vidual  combats. 

The  militia-men  fought  hand  to  hand  with  the  Indians  and 
Greens.  "Let  me  recall,  gentlemen,  to  your  recollection,"  said 
the  eloquent  Gouverneur  Morris  at  a  later  time,  "that  bloody 
field  in  which  Herkimer  fell.  There  was  found  the  Indian  and 
the  white  man,  born  on  the  banks  of  the  Mohawk,  their  left 
hand  clenched  in  each  other's  hair,  the  right  grasping  in  a  gripe 
of  death  the  knife  plunged  in  each  other's  heart.  Thus  they 
lay  frowning." 

At  last  Thayendanegea  reluctantly  called  off  his  braves,  of 
whom  so  many  were  falling.  The  colonists  could  not  be  driven 
from  the  field.  They  had  determined  to  die  in  their  tracks 
rather  than  yield.  Two  hundred  of  the  Americans  had  been 
killed,  and  twice  as  many  more  wounded  or  taken  prisoner. 
Hardly  a  cabin  in  the  valley  was  there  from  which  some  father 
or  son  had  not  gone  forth  to  return  no  more.  Many  of  the 
unfortunate  captives  were  tortured  and  put  to  death  by  the 
Indians.  The  direct  reason  for  the  withdrawal  of  the  enemy 
was  a  spirited  sally  by  the  garrison  of  Fort  Schuyler.  So  well 
conducted  was  the  sortie  that  nearly  the  entire  camp  equipage 
of  St.  Leger  fell  into  their  hands. 

Thus  ended  one  of  the  bloodiest  battles  of  the  Revolution. 
Thayendanegea  had  commanded  the  enemy  in  person.  Heavy 
as  was  the  loss  of  the  Americans,  that  of  the  enemy  was  still 
heavier.  Two  or  three  days  afterward  a  solitary  scout  chanced 
to  come  upon  the  field  of  battle.  "  There  I  beheld  the  most 
shocking  sight  I  had  ever  witnessed.  The  Indians  and  white 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHA  WKS.  333 

men  were  mingled  with  one  another  just  as  they  had  been  left 
when  death  had  first  completed  his  work.  Many  bodies  had 
also  been  torn  to  pieces  by  wild  beasts." 

General  Herkimer  did  not  long  survive  the  battle.  His 
wounded  limb  was  unskillfully  amputated.  The  flow  of  blood 
was  not  properly  staunched.  As  the  hemorrhage  renewed  again 
and  again,  the  hero  calmly  called  his  friends  about  him.  With 
mind  unclouded,  and  a  body  almost  free  from  pain,  he  read  the 
thirty-eighth  Psalm  aloud,  while  the  red  tide  ebbed  fast  away. 
"  Make  haste  to  help  me,  0  Lord,  my  salvation."  As  the  clos 
ing  words  of  the  psalm  died  away  on  his  pallid  lips,  the  light 
of  an  unseen  morning  momentarily  lit  up  his  eye,  and  then  it 
closed  in  eternal  sleep. 

Meanwhile  the  siege  was  resumed.  One  day  an  Indian 
entered  St.  Leger's  camp.  His  clothes  were  riddled  with  shot. 
He  was  a  half-crazy  fellow,  regarded  by  the  Iroquois  with  con 
siderable  awe  and  superstition.  With  knowing  looks  and  a  few 
significant  words,  he  led  them  to  believe  that  a  vast  army  of 
Americans  was  on  the  way  to  Fort  Schuyler.  He  had,  he  said, 
been  informed  in  a  dream.  A  panic  seized  the  Indian  camp. 
Wigwams  were  hastily  taken  down  and  preparations  made  to 
decamp.  St.  Leger  persuaded,  threatened,  and  expostulated. 
In  vain.  The  whole  Indian  army  abandoned  the  siege,  and  fled 
in  precipitation  before  nightfall.  For  St.  Leger  no  alternative 
was  left  but  retreat.  As  it  turned  out,  the  dreamer  was  a  liar. 
Having  been  captured  by  the  Americans  and  condemned  to 
death,  he  was  offered  his  liberty  if  he  could  frighten  the 
Indians  away  from  Fort  Schuyler.  His  brother  stood  as  host- 
^age  while  the  knave  went  on  his  errand,  and,  as  we  have  seen, 
achieved  success. 

During  the  winter  of  1777-78  Brant  kept  his  head-quarters 
at  Niagara,  from  which  point  he  maintained  constant  communi 
cation  with  the  western  Indians,  inciting  them  to  co-operate 
with  the  Iroquois.  As  the  spring  advanced,  he  again  returned 
suddenly  to  his  old  haunts  at  Unadillo  on  the  Susquehanna. 


334  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

This  was  sufficient  to  cause  innumerable  patriotic  hearts  to  pop 
into  their  owners'  mouths.  Brant,  with  a  large  force  of  war 
riors,  secure  enough  behind  his  fortifications,  forthwith  inspired 
and  directed  incessant  ^aids  up  and  down  the  defenseless 
valley. 

Besides  their  Indian  foes,  the  people  were  also  torn  by  polit 
ical  animosities.  In  one  locality  the  male  settlers  capable  of 
bearing  arms  were  summoned  from  far  and  wide  to  meet  the 
king's  commissioners  at  the  house  of  Captain  Mann,  a  wealthy 
loyalist.  At  the  appointed  day  a  large  assemblage  met.  Num 
bers  of  Indians  came,  impressed  by  the  warlike  preparations. 
Each  man  was  required  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
king,  and  wear  a  scarlet  badge  on  the  hat.  Earnest  loyalists 
wore  red  caps.  Less  zealous  ones  pinned  on  a  small  piece  of 
red  cloth.  Others,  who  were  at  heart  Whigs,  through  fear  of 
confiscation  and  arrest,  contented  themselves  with  a  bit  of  red 
yarn.  Two  men  refused  absolutely  to  take  the  oath.  Just  as 
they  were  about  to  be  arrested,  a  thick  cloud  of  dust  down  the 
road  betokened  the  approach  of  horsemen.  In  a  moment  a 
strong  body  of  American  cavalry,  with  drawn  swords  flashing 
in  the  sunlight,  dashed  up,  and  ordered  the  loyalist  gathering 
to  disperse. 

Captain  Mann  made  his  escape.  The  orders  were  to  take 
him  alive,  if  possible,  but  dead,  if  not.  Late  at  night,  a  young 
patriot,  a  neighbor  lad,  found  him  in  a  wheat-stack.  He  sum 
moned  Mann  to  surrender  on  pain  of  instant  death.  The  latter 
answered  with  entreaties  to  be  spared.  The  country  boy  hesi 
tated  to  shoot  down  the  richest  man  in  the  locality.  He  wa 
vered.  It  was  midnight.  A  heavy  rain  was  falling.  Perhaps, 
in  the  pitchy  darkness,  he  did  not  see  Mann  edging  away. 
Perhaps  his  heart  softened,  and  at  the  crisis  his  nerve  became 
weak.  The  loyalist  got  away. 

The  whole  country  turned  out  to  hound  him  down.  In  the 
search  a  party  ran  across  a  stray  Indian.  He  wore  a  bit  of 
scarlet  cloth  in  his  hat.  Unstrung  by  excitement,  the  whites 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  337 

absolutely  butchered  the  poor  fellow.  The  badge  may  have 
been  that  of  a  loyalist.  More  likely  the  bright  color  had 
caught  the  barbarian's  eye,  and  he  wore  it  as  an  ornament. 
After  fifteen  days'  search,  Mann  was  captured  in  the  mountains. 
He  was  thrown  into  a  prison  at  Albany,  and  detained  until  the 
war  was  over. 

During  the  year  1778  the  valley  was  filled  with  a  thousand 
frightful  rumors.  Many  of  these  were  true.  Innumerable 
lonely  farm-houses  were  plundered  and  burned,  and  their  occu 
pants  massacred.  Rage  is  often  near-sighted.  In  their  indis 
criminate  fury  the  Indians  massacred  a  woman  and  six  children. 
She  was  the  wife  of  a  Tory. 

But  a  greater  enterprise  was  at  hand.  The  valley  of  Wy 
oming,  in  North-eastern  Pennsylvania,  is  one  of  the  loveliest 
spots  of  earth.  It  is  a  second  Eden.  It  has  been  the  burden 
of  the  poet's  song  and  of  the  historian's  admiration.  Yet  from 
the  earliest  time  this  paradise  had  been  the  scene  of  the  blood 
iest  contentions.  Indian  tribes  had  warred  over  it,  until  both 
of  the  contending  parties  were  extinct.  A  civil  war  had 
broken  out  there  between  rival  settlers  from  Connecticut  and 
Pennsylvania,  and  again  drenched  its  soil  with  blood.  But  in 
the  year  1778,  the  sounds  of  violence  had  long  since  died  away 
in  this  sequestered  vale,  and  the  crimson  foot-prints  of  war  had 
been  effaced.  From  many  a  rude  cabin  chimney  the  blue  smoke 
curled  peacefully  upward  toward  the  sky.  Around  many  a 
fireside  sat  happy  families. 

Towards  this  lovely  spot  the  English  commanders  at  Niag 
ara  turned  their  cruel  eyes.  A  large  force  of  whites  and  Indians 
pushed  across  the  country  on  their  mission  of  destruction.  Two 
or  three  days  before  the  1st  of  July  wild  reports  of  their 
approach  were  carried  down  the  valley  by  galloping  horsemen. 
These  reports  were  followed  by  others  even  more  dreadful. 
Nine  men  at  work  in  a  field  had  been  murdered.  Two  forts 
near  the  upper  end  of  the  valley  had  been  captured  and  burnt. 
Colonel  Zebulon  Butler  at  once  toiled  day  and  night  to  collect 


338  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  force  of  settlers  to  resist  the  enemy.  The  country  was 
already  drained  of  its  men  to  fill  the  ragged,  but  heroic,  ranks 
of  the  American  army.  Still,  from  far  and  near,  they  came, 
with  their  fire-locks  and  ammunition,  until  about  three  hundred 
men  assembled  in  Fort  Forty. 

The  name  of  this  fort  is  a  history  in  itself.  At  one  time, 
in  the  earlier  border  wars,  it  had  been  defended  by  forty  men 
against  fearful  odds.  Hence  its  name.  The  enemy  took  posses 
sion  of  Fort  Wintermoot,  farther  up  the  valley.  The  impatient 
and  undisciplined  militia-men,  roused  by  the  unusual  occasion  to 
a  fever  of  martial  excitement,  demanded  that  they  advance  to 
attack  the  foe.  Of  course,  the  attempt  at  a  surprise  failed.  The 
whites,  under  Colonel  John  Butler,  fought  the  settlers  from  the 
front.  In  this  engagement  the  militia  gained  a  slight  advantage. 
They  were  pressing  forward  to  pursue  it. 

Suddenly  a  terrific  yell  from  hundreds  of  savage  throats,  just 
in  their  rear,  thrilled  every  patriot  with  horror.  The  Indians, 
under  their  leader,  for  a  long  time  supposed  to  have  been  Brant 
himself,  had  passed  around  to  the  rear  of  the  Americans.  The 
latter  fought  with  boldness.  But  it  was  useless.  They  were 
being  crushed  between  the  two  forces.  Besides  this,  some  one 
blundered.  The  drummer  beat  a  retreat  when  the  order  was 
an  advance.  They  broke  and  ran — ran  for  life.  The  Indians 
leaped  after  them,  flinging  down  their  rifles,  and  using  only  the 
tomahawk.  They  pursued  every  straggling  runner.  Only  sixty 
out  of  the  noble  three  hundred  escaped  unhurt.  Some  of 
these  did  so  by  swimming  the  river,  others  by  fleeing  to  the 
mountains. 

This  was  not  a  battle.  History  calls  it  a  MASSACRE.  An 
eye-witness,  an  Englishman,  slightly  changes  these  figures.  He 
says  there  were  three  hundred  and  forty  Americans,  arid  that 
forty  only  escaped.  The  other  statement  was  frightful  enough. 
But  for  this  latter  unquestionable  testimony,  the  former  report 
would  have  been  regarded  as  an  exaggeration. 

As  the  news  of  the  defeat  was  carried  down  the  valley  by 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  339 

the  hunted  fugitives,  the  women  and  children  fled  panic-stricken 
into  the  wilderness.  Colonel  Zebulon  Butler  managed  to  make 
a  stand  in  Fort  Wyoming,  where  large  numbers  of  settlers  were 
huddled  together.  Concerning  what  followed,  there  is  a  bitter 
historical  dispute.  The  earliest  writers  relate  the  following : 
On  the  morning  of  July  4th,  the  invaders  demanded  surrender 
of  the  fort.  A  parley  was  proposed.  A  large  body  of  Ameri 
cans  marched  to  the  appointed  place.  Instead  of  the  truce 
being  respected,  the  Indians  suddenly  sprang,  howling,  upon 
them  from  the  shadowy  recesses  in  the  forest,  and  commenced 
a  second  and  more  horrible  massacre,  slaughtering  nearly  all  in 
cold  blood.  "A  remnant  only  regained  the  fort.  A  demand 
was  sent  in  for  surrender,  accompanied  by  one  hundred  and 
ninety-six  bloody  scalps,  taken  from  those  who  had  just  been 
slain.  When  the  best  terms  were  asked,  the  infamous  Butler 
replied,  the  hatchet!1  It  will  be  observed  that  the  hostile 
commanders  bore  the  same  name.  They  were  cousins  and 
old  friends. 

Some  of  the  occupants  of  the  fort,  including  Colonel  Zebulon 
Butler,  managed  to  escape  to  the  wilderness.  The  rest,  with 
those  who  were  found  in  the  settlement — men,  women,  and 
children — were  locked  up  in  the  houses,  which  were  set  on 
fire,  and  "the  whole  consumed  together."  This  was  not  all. 
Another  fort  was  near  by  with  seventy  soldiers.  They  sur 
rendered,  under  solemn  promises  that  their  lives  would  be  spared. 
They  were  butchered  to  a  man.  Some  details  have  been  handed 
down  to  us.  "  One  of  the  prisoners,  a  Captain  Badloek,  was 
committed  to  torture,  by  having  his  body  stuck  full  of  splinters 
S?  ^iiie  knoco,  and  a  fire  of  dry  wood  made  around  him,  when 
his  two  companions,  Captains  Rauson  and  Durkee  were  thrown 
into  the  same  fire  and  held  down  with  pitchforks  until  con 
sumed.  One  Partial  Terry,  the  son  of  a  man  of  respectable 
character,  having  joined  the  Indian  cause,  with  his  own  hands, 
murdered  his  father,  mother,  brothers,  and  sisters,  stripped  off 
their  scalps,  and  cut  off  his  father's  head  ! " 


340  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

These  were  the  earliest  reports  of  the  Wyoming  tragedy. 
Later  and  more  critical  authorities  deny  them.  It  is  creditable 
to  human  nature  to  disbelieve  them.  Whether  the  particular 
incidents  recorded  took  place  or  not  is  of  no  importance.  All 
agree  that  a  Reign  of  Terror  was  inaugurated  in  the  peaceful 
valley.  At  the  best,  history  is  only  approximately  true. 
Froude,  Gibbon,  Macaulay,  Bancroft,  have  alike  drawn  on  their 
imagination  for  details.  The  outline  of  history  only  is  correct. 
The  "historical  imagination"  is  what  makes  history  readable. 
It  furnishes  one  a  picture  of  the  past. 

Whether  the  particular  details  are  true  is  immaterial.  The 
scene,  as  a  whole,  may  be  true,  nevertheless.  Who  doubts  that 
one  of  Dickens's  novels  presents  us  with  a  better  view  of  English 
life  and  manners  than  any  history  can  do  ?  Yet  the  whole  book 
is  a  tissue  of  fiction.  The  truth  or  falsity  of  history  is  not 
to  be  determined  merely  by  the  pictorial  and  graphic  details, 
which  give  life  and  animation  to  the  scene.  The  real  test  is, 
whether  the  general  outline,  the  perspective,  the  tone,  propor 
tion,  and  coloring  is  true  to  the  original.  Any  thing  else  is 
impossible.  No  two  witnesses  will  ever  agree  as  to  the  exact 
details  of  a  street  brawl.  Yet  a  hundred  will  substantiate  each 
other  as  to  the  general  and  obvious  facts. 

One  of  the  disputes  over  the  Wyoming  tragedy  was,  the 
leadership  of  the  Indians.  Early  reports  charged  it  to  Brant. 
The  poet  Campbell,  acting  on  this  authority,  gave  him  an  immor 
tality  of  shame  in  his  "Gertrude  of  Wyoming."  In  his  later 
years,  however,  Brant's  son  went  to  England  and  charged  the 
poet  with  traducing  his  father.  Indeed,  the  proofs  strongly 
indicate  that  Brant  was  not  present  at  the  inva?;<  rT7-omin<r 

If  Brant  was  not  at  Wyoming,  there  were  enough  raids, 
burnings,  ambushes,  fights,  and  massacres  which  did  take 
place  during  this  summer  under  his  leadership.  One  incident 
must  suffice.  German  Flatts  was  the  very  flower  of  the  Mohawk 
valley.  A  settlement  of  some  sixty-five  houses,  was  distributed 
equally  on  either  side  of  the  river.  On  one  side  stood  the  mas- 


JOSEPH  BE  ANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  341 

sive  stone  residence  of  the  Herkimer  family,  used  as  a  fort. 
One  evening,  half  an  hour  before  sunset,  a  scout  brought  word 
that  Brant  and  several  hundred  warriors  was  on  his  way  to 
this  settlement.  There  had  been  four  in  the  scout's  party.  The 
other  three  were  killed.  As  the  great  and  solemn  sunset  flung 
its  dying  splendors  across  the  evening  sky,  there  was  alarm  and 
terror  in  every  household,  for  ten  miles  along  the  valley.  The 
poor  people  piled  their  most  valuable  furniture  into  canoes,  and 
hurriedly  made  their  way  to  Fort  Herkimer,  and  Fort  Dayton, 
on  the.  opposite  side  of  the  river.  All  night  the  fugitives  con 
tinued  to  arrive.  Their  houses  and  flocks  had  been  abandoned. 
A  heavy  rainstorm  occurred  after  midnight,  adding  to  the  mis 
ery  of  the  unhappy  people,  who  were  dragging  their  things  up 
the  river  bank  to  the  forts. 

Brant  arrived,  and  halted  in  a  neighboring  ravine,  little  sus 
pecting  that  his  approach  was  known.  Anxious  eyes  kept 
watch  from  the  fort.  At  the  first  flush  of  dawn,  the  Indians 
could  be  seen  swarming  through  the  settlement.  The  black 
smoke  and  flames  from  the  incendiary  torch  rolled  up  at  nearly 
the  same  moment  from  every  house  in  the  place.  The  Indians 
waited,  in  the  morning  air,  with  drawn  tomahawks,  impatient 
for  the  roasting  inmates  to  rush  forth.  But  they  were  disap 
pointed.  Not  a  scalp  graced  their  victory.  The  unhappy  set 
tlers  were  forced  to  see  every  house  and  barn,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  in  number,  with  the .  contents,  and  five  mills  burnt,  and 
nearly  a  thousand  head  of  live  stock  driven  away. 

Linked  by  a  common  fate  with  the  melancholy  Wyoming, 
is  Cherry  Valley.  On  the  10th  of  November,  1778,  Brant  and 
w;*.lLcr  N.  Butler  appeared  suddenly  before  the  place.  No 
alarm  had  reached  the  settlement.  For  this  there  was  a  reason. 
All  the  scouts  had  been  taken  prisoners.  The  settlers  were 
sleeping  quietly  in  their  houses.  Even  the  officers  of  the  fort 
were  staying  at  the  houses  of  the  neighbors. 

Just  before  daybreak  the  savages,  a  name  which  belongs 
equally  to  the  Tory  rangers  and  to  Brant's  Indians,  dashed  into- 


342  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  settlement.  The  house  of  Mr.  Wells  was  first  surrounded. 
The  family  was  awakened  by  the  bursting  in  of  the  door.  Mr. 
Wells,  his  mother,  his  wife,  three  sons,  and  a  daughter,  were 
butchered  in  their  beds.  His  sister  Jane,  a  lovely  girl,  man 
aged  to  get  out  of  the  house.  She  sought  refuge  in  a  wood 
pile,  but  was  killed  in  the  act  of  reaching  it.  The  guards  in  the 
house  were  either  killed  or  taken.  Here  too,  was  Captain  Alden, 
commandant  of  the  fort.  He  fled  down  the  hill,  pursued  by  an 
Indian.  Refusing  to  stop,  the  savage  hurled  his  tomahawk,  with 
fatal  accuracy.  This  was  but  a  specimen  of  the  horrid  scenes. 

Every  house  in  the  settlement  was  burnt.  Thirty-two 
inhabitants,  largely  women  and  children,  were  slain,  besides 
sixteen  soldiers.  In  addition  to  this,  some  forty  persons  were 
taken  prisoners.  Most  of  the  women  and  children  were  set 
free,  but- the  rest  were  taken  to  Niagara. 

For  the  atrocities  at  Cherry  Valley,  Brant's  biographer 
claims,  with  much  plausibility,  that  he  was  not  responsible, 
that  Walter  N.  Butler  had  entire  command  of  the  expedition. 
Indeed,  there  are  many  authentic  instances  where  Brant  inter 
posed  to  save  women  and  children  from  outrage.  In  this 
regard  he  differed  from  nearly  all  of  the  great  Indian  chiefs. 
He  was  always  sensitive  to  any  charge  of  cruelty. 

There  were  other  raids  by  Brant  during  this  season.  But 
they  hardly  deserve  mention.  Not  more  than  twelve  or  fifteen 
firesides  were  desolated  by  each  attack.  What  place  can  such 
small  massacres  find  in  history  ?  One  with  fifty  victims  will  do, 
but  five  hundred  is  better. 

The  whites  managed  to  extract  some  sport  out  of  affairs 
themselves.  About  this  time  the  Onondagas  were  suspected  by 
the  Americans  of  infidelity.  An  expedition,  under  Colonel  Van 
Schaick,  fell  upon  their  principal  village,  the  capital  of  the  con 
federacy,  destroying  it  and  numbers  of  the  inhabitants.  The 
immemorial  council-fire  was  extinguished.  The  faithful  Onei- 
das  trembled  in  their  moccasins  at  the  fearful  vengeance 
wreaked  Upon  their  neighbors.  They  at  once  sent  an  embassy 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  345 

to  ask  what  it  meant.  "  Was  it  done  by  mistake  or  design," 
they  asked.  "  If  our  brethren,  the  Americans,  mean  to  destroy 
us  also,  we  will  not  fly- — we  will  wait  here  and  receive  our 
death."  "  They  were  cut  off  by  design.  I  was  ordered  to  do 
it — it  is  done,"  was  the  reply.  For  the  injury  the  Onondagas  took 
ample  revenge.  Three  hundred  of  their  warriors  fell  upon,  the  set 
tlement  of  Schoharie,  and  destroyed  it. 

Another  of  Brant's  exploits  was  the  destruction  of  Mini- 
sink.  In  the  massacre  large  numbers  of  whites  suffered  death. 
One  man,  Major  Wood,  was  about  to  be  killed  when,  either  by 
accident  or  design,  he  made  a  Masonic  signal,  though  he  did 
not  belong  to  the  order.  Brant  was  an  enthusiastic  Freemason, 
and  at  once  rescued  him.  When  the  Indian  leader  found  out 
the  deception,  he  boiled  over  with  rage,  cursing  the  man  terri 
bly,  but  yet  sparing  his  life. 

In  the  summer  of;  1779,  the  colonies  resolved  on  a  united 
effort  to  crush  the  power  of  the  Six  Nations  by  an  invasion  of 
their  country.  The  army  for  that  purpose  was  strong  and  well 
equipped.  Brant,  on  the  other  hand,  rallied  all  his  forces  for 
the  defense  of  his  country.  The  battle  took  place  on  the  site 
of  the  present  city  of  Elmira,  New  York.  It  raged  all  day. 
The  Americans  gradually  forced  the  enemy  back.  So  many 
Indians  were  killed,  that  "  the  sides  of  the  rocks  next  the  river 
appeared  as  though  blood  had  been  poured  on  them  by  pailfuls." 

All  was  lost.  The  Indian  warriors  fled,  taking  women  and 
children  with  them,  and  leaving  their  smiling  country,  with  its 
populous  and  regularly  laid  out  villages,  its  vast  acreage  of 
waving  grain,  its  numerous  orchards,  in  which  the  ruddy  fruit 
was -already  peeping  from  among  the  clustering  leaves,  open  to 
the  destroyers'  advance.  Town  after  town  was  laid  in  ashes. 
Of  Kanadaseagea,  the  capital  of  the  Senecas,  not  one  wigwam 
was  left  standing.  Genesee,  the  principal  western  town,  con 
taining  all  the  winter  stores  of  the  confederacy,  was  completely 
obliterated.  The  fields  of  grain  were  burnt.  The  very  gardens 
were  uprooted,  and  the  harmless  apple  trees  hewn  down. 


346  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Yet  the  wrath  of  the  invaders  wreaked  itself  alone  upon 
these  inanimate  objects.  The  Indians  fled  at  their  approach, 
leaving  their  villages  silent  and  deserted.  Fires  were  still 
burning  in  the  wigwams.  Iron  pots,  with  their  noonday  meal, 
were  still  simmering  away  over  the  coals.  The  rude  cradle  was 
still  warm  from  the  babe  which  had  lain  there.  But  no  human 
being  could  be  found.  The  hand  which  built  the  fire  was 
invisible.  The  cook  who  had  prepared  the  pot  of  broth  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  mother  of  the  babe  was  out  of  sight. 
All  were  gone.  The  women  and  children  were  sent  to  Niagara. 
The  warriors  remained  lurking  in  the  forest,  insane  with  wrath 
at  the  destruction  of  their  lovely  country,  sometimes  venting 
their  rage  in  nameless  tortures  upon  unfortunate  stragglers 
whom  they  captured,  but  otherwise  offering  no  resistance  to  the 
invaders. 

The  flight  of  the  Iroquois  on  this  occasion  reminds  one  of 
the  flight  of  the  Russians  on  Napoleon's  march  to  Moscow. 
But  in  one  regard  it  is  different.  Napoleon  found  himself  in  a 
frozen  wilderness.  These  invaders  found  themselves  in  a  bloom 
ing  garden.  A  soldier  took  the  trouble  to  measure  an  ear  of 
corn  which  he  plucked  from  the  rustling  stalk.  He  found  jt  to 
be  twenty-two  inches  long.  Another  soldier  made  a  rough 
count  of  the  number  of  apple  trees  in  a  single  orchard  which 
was  on  the  point  of  destruction.  He  estimated  that  there  were 
fifteen  hundred  bearing  trees.  This  was  not  unusually  large. 
Of  the  number  of  orchards,  the  men  said  they  were  "  innumer 
able."  This,  probably,  included  those  of  peach  and  pear  trees. 
They  were  the  product  of  the  toil  and  care  of  countless  genera 
tions  of  Iroquois.  "A  wigwam  can  be  rebuilt  in  two  or  three 
days,"the  Indians  sadly  said;  "but  a  tree  takes  many  years  to 
grow  again." 

Their  sorrows  became  the  source  of  dissension.  There  arose 
a  peace  party.  Among  the  Senecas  was  a  young  orator  named 
Red  Jacket.  He  had  the  gift  of  eloquence.  He  became  the 
leader  of  the  peace  party.  He  spoke  with  thrilling  earnestness 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  347 

of  the  folly  of  a  war  which  was  driving  them  forever  from  the 
lovely  valley  which  they  had  inherited  from  their  fathers;  a 
war,  too,  in  which  they  fought,  not  for  themselves,  but  for  the 
English.  "  What  have  the  English  done  for  us,"  he  exclaimed, 
drawing  his  proud  form  to  its  fullest  height,  and  pointing  with 
the  zeal  of  despair  toward  the  winding  Mohawk,  "  that  we  should 
become  homeless  and  helpless  wanderers  for  their  sakes?"  His 
burning  words  sank  deep  into  the  hearts  of  his  passionate 
hearers.  It  was  secretly  resolved  by  his  party  to  send  a 
runner  to  the  American  army,  and  ask  them  to  oifer  peace  on 
any  terms. 

Brant  was  the  leader  of  the  war  party.  All  his  tremendous 
prejudices  and  masterful  abilities  were  enlisted  in  behalf  of 
England.  He  hated  the  young  and  eloquent  Red  Jacket. 
Moreover,  Brant  was  no  orator.  He  could  not  contend  with 
his  gifted  rival  in  mere  words.  He  was  rather  a  man  of 
action,  a  Cromwell  of  great  executive  ability  and  possessing  a 
will  of  iron.  He  heard  of  the  plot  to  make  peace.  He  kept 
his  own  council.  The  runner  left  the  camp.  Two  confidential 
warriors  were  summoned  by  Brant.  In  a  few  stern  words  he 
explained  to  them  that  the  American  flag  of  truce  must  never 
reach  the  Indian  camp.  Its  bearers  must  be  murdered  on  the 
way,  yet  with  such  secrecy  that  their  fate  should  not  be 
known.  The  expectant  peace  party,  waiting  for  the  message  in 
vain,  were  to  believe  that  the  Americans  had  scornfully  refused 
to  hear  their  prayer  for  peace.  The  plot  was  carried  out.  The 
man  of  words  was  vanquished.  The  man  of  deeds  triumphed. 
The  flag  of  truce  never  arrived. 

General  Sullivan  had  now  destroyed  the  home  of  the  proud 
Iroquois,  and  driven  their  families  abroad  to  strange  and  inhospit 
able  regions.  More  than  forty  populous  towns  had  been  literally 
blotted  out  from  the  map  of  the  country.  The  landscape  was  no 
longer  variegated  with  fields  of  golden  grain,  with  burdened 
orchards,  staggering  beneath  their  tinted  fruitage,  with  verdant 
pastures,  dotted  over  with  sleek  and  peaceful  herds,  nor  with 

19 


348  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

waving  forests  of  ancient  trees,  whose  emerald  foliage  formed 
such  a  rich  contrast  with  the  sunny  sky  and  the  winding  river. 
As  far  as  the  eye  could  stretch,  the  prospect  presented  a  sin 
gle  ominous  color.  That  color  was  black.  It  was  a  landscape 
of  charcoal!  The  American  general  was  happy. 

Instead  of  pressing  on  to  Niagara,  and  destroying  the  mili 
tary  head-quarters  of  the  north-west,  he  turned  about.  Only 
one  ambition  remained  unfulfilled.  He  had  no  captives.  Casting 
about  in  his  mind,  he  remembered  a  few  families  of  the  Lower 
clan  of  the  Mohawks,  who,  as  will  be  recollected,  had  refused 
to  follow  Brant.  They  had  remained  peacefully  at  home  in  their 
wigwams  and  fields.  They  were  neutral.  They  expected  no 
danger.  As  General  Sullivan  thought  of  them  his  eye  bright 
ened.  He  would  add  the  missing  plume  to  his  hat.  He  would 
take  these  Mohawks  prisoners.  Happy  thought!  Brilliant 
idea!  It  was  carried  into  execution.  The  peaceful  tillers  of 
the  soil  were  rudely  torn  from  their  homes.  It  is  hardly  neces 
sary  to  add  that  they  were  soon  released,  by  order  of  Sullivan's 
superiors.  The  general  himself  soon  found  it  convenient  to 
resign  on  account  of  ill-health. 

The  winter  of  1779-80,  was  one  of  unprecedented  rigor. 
The  shivering  Iroquois,  at  Niagara,  suffered  severely.  But  the 
fire  of  hate  burnt  in  the  heart  of  Brant  as  hot  as  ever.  Long 
had  he  been  meditating  a  terrible  revenge  upon  the  Oneidas, 
who  had  refused  to  follow  his  leadership,  but  had  persisted  in 
neutrality.  Upon  them  he  laid  the  blame  of  all  his  disasters. 
That  winter  he  led  his  warriors  across  frozen  rivers,  and  through 
snowy  forests,  to  the  home  of  the  unsuspecting  Oneidas.  Of 
what  followed  we  have  no  detailed  history.  The  Oneidas  had 
no  historian.  Their  sufferings  have  passed,  like  the  sufferers 
themselves,  into  the  unremembered  past.  It  is  only  known 
that  Brant  fell  upon  them  without  mercy,  that  their  villages 
and  wigwams,  their  storehouses,  and  castles,  were  suddenly 
destroyed,  that  vast  numbers  of  them  were  slain,  and  that  the 
survivors  fled  to  the  white  men  for  protection. 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  349 

The  poor  refugees,  stricken  for  a  fault  which  was  not  their 
own,  were  allotted  rude  and  comfortless  quarters  near  Schenec- 
tady,  where  they  were  supported  by  the  government  till  the 
close  of  the  war.  Their  misfortunes  did  not  end  with  their  dis 
persion.  Driven  from  their  homes,  reduced  to  want,  depend 
ence,  and  abject  poverty,  they  lapsed  from  their  regular  and 
industrious  habits.  They  became  intemperate  and  idle.  Of  the 
proud  and  loyal  Oneidas,,  a  few  lazy  drunkards  came  in  time  to 
be  the  only  representatives. 

In  pursuing  Brant's  larger  enterprises  we  omit  wild  fields  of 
incident  and  individual  adventure.  One  brave  man,  Solomon 
Woodworth,  lived  all  alone,  in  a  block-house,  eight  miles  from 
Johnstown.  He  was  repeatedly  attacked  in  his  lonely  stronghold, 
and  managed  not  only  to  repulse  such  small  bands  as  came  that 
way,  but  on  one  occasion,  at  least,  pursued  the  Indians,  and 
killed  several.  Another  dramatic  incident  was  the  burning  of 
Ellis's  mills.  They  were  located  at  the  wild  waterfall,  where 
the  foaming  Mohawk  plunges  through  a  rocky  gorge  into  the 
lower  valley.  Since  the  burning  of  the  mills  at  Fort  Herki- 
mer,  these  wrere  resorted  to  by  the  settlers  from  miles  around, 
with  their  bags  of  grain  carried  on  horseback.  The  mill  was 
garrisoned  by  twelve  men.  The  Indians  attacked  it  at  dead 
of  night.  The  building  was  in  flames  before  its  defenders 
knew  their  danger.  A  brief  and  hopeless  resistance  was  made, 
and  then  every  man  sought  safety  by  flight.  Six  or  seven 
were  quickly  captured. 

Two  of  the  men  plunged  into  the  race  above  the  mill,  leav 
ing  only  their  faces  above  water,  and  hoping  to  escape  dis 
covery  in  the  darkness.  Before  long,  however,  the  red  tongues 
of  flame  were  thrust  out  through  the  windows.  The  glare 
became  brighter  and  brighter.  Glowing  seams  appeared  between 
the  logs,  through  which  shone  the  fierce  fires  within  the  doomed 
building.  The  roar  grew  louder  and  louder.  The  yells  of  the 
shrieking  savages  mingled  with  the  crackling  of  the  flames. 
Snatching  brands  in  their  hands,  they  ran  up  and  down  the 


350  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

shore,  eagerly  watching  for  lurking  whites.  At  last,  the  roof 
tree  fell  in  with  an  infernal  crash.  Millions  of  sparks  flitted 
upward,  followed  by  dense  volumes  of  smoke.  The  surround 
ings  grew  darker  for  a  moment.  But  suddenly  the  pall  lifted. 
Mighty  billows  of  seething  fire  burst  upwards  into  the  heavens, 
as  if  furious  at  their  confinement.  In  a  moment  the  race  became 
as  light  as  day.  The  poor  fellows  were  discovered,  and  put 
to  death. 

Two  others,  Cox  and  Skinner,  had  sought  a  more  dangerous 
and  yet  a  safer  hiding  place.  They  were  under  the  great  water 
wheel,  nearly  choked  with  the  dashing  spray.  The  great  embers 
from  the  conflagration  above  them  dropped  down,  but  were 
knocked  off  by  the  revolving  water  wheel.  The  savages  sought 
for  them  in  vain.  When  at  last  the  mill  was  a  smoking  ruin, 
the  Indians  rode  away  with  hideous  yells.  Then  the  poor  fel 
lows  came  out.  They  were  severely  burnt  where  coals  had 
fallen  on  them.  But  they  were  safe. 

From  the  beginning  of  1780  the  sufferings  of  the  settlers 
of  the  lower  Mohawk  Valley  steadily  increased.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  at  the  time  of  Sir  John  Johnson's  hasty  flight 
to  Canada,  he  had  secretly  buried  his  papers  and  treasure.  His 
estates  were  confiscated*,  and  his  splendid  mansion  passed  into 
the  possession  of  another.  One  morning,  a  year  or  so  previous 
to  the  time  of  which  we  are  writing,  the  owner  was  disturbed 
to  find  a  hole  dug  in  his  garden  walk,  the  marks  of  many  foot 
prints,  and  a  number  of  papers  scattered  through  the  garden. 
A  small  band  of  Johnson's  followers  had  recovered  his  chest  of 
papers. 

In  the  spring  of  '80,  Sir  John,  incredible  as  it  seems,  made 
his  way  with  five  hundred  men  from  Montreal  to  Johnstown, 
without  his  approach  being  discovered.  His  avowed  object  was 
the  recovery  of  his  treasure,  which  was  still  buried  in  the  cellar. 
This  expedition  was  one  of  the  most  impudent  as  well  as  brutal 
occurrences  of  the  war.  Entering  Johnstown  at  dead  of  night, 
the  ruffians  proceeded  to  murder  large  numbers  of  the  old 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  351 

acquaintances,  neighbors,  and  friends  of  Sir  John,  and  apply 
the  torch  to  their  homes.  The  treasure  was  recovered,  the  out 
rages  consummated,  and  the  strangers  coolly  made  their  retreat 
without  a  straw  of  opposition  from  the  terrified  people.  On 
this  occasion  Jacob  and  Frederick  Sammons  were  taken  prison 
ers,  of  whose  adventures  more  hereafter. 

On  the  2d  of  August  harvesters  in  the  fields  around  Johns 
town  noticed  dark  columns  of  smoke  from  the  direction  of 
Canajoharie.  A  company  was  at  once  collected  to  march  to 
the  relief  of  the  settlers,  who  were  undoubtedly  attacked  by 
Indians.  The  place  had,  for  defense,  a  block-house,  called 
Fort  Plain,  but  on  this  occasion  the  fort  was  without  a  garrison. 

For  some  time  the  valley  had  been  filled  with  rumors  to  the 
effect  that  Brant  intended  to  attack  a  convoy  of  boats,  carry 
ing  supplies  to  Fort  Schuyler.  To  prevent  this  the  militia  from 
the  lower  part  of  the  valley  were  withdrawn  and  dispatched  up 
the  river.  As  soon  as  this  was  done,  the  wily  Brant  led  his 
warriors  by  swift  marches  to  Canajoharie,  which,  in  common 
with  the  rest,  had  let  her  garrison  go  up  the  river.  The  scenes 
of  slaughter  and  destruction  which  took  place  on  this  raid  of 
Brant's  were  almost  a  duplicate,  though,  perhaps,  covering  a 
smaller  territory,  of  those  which  had  marked  General  Sullivan's 
great  invasion  of  the  Indian  country  during  the  previous  year. 
In  one  regard  it  was  much  worse.  The  settlers  were  taken  by 
surprise  and  had  no  time  for  flight.  Great  numbers  of  them 
were  killed,  and  immensely  more  taken  prisoner. 

But  still  Brant's  appetite  for  vengeance  was  unabated. 
Again  he  raised  a  force  for  a  third  .invasion  of  the  Mohawk 
Valley  within  a  year.  It  was  not  enough  to  have  equaled  the 
work  of  Sullivan.  It  must  be  surpassed.  To  this  end  he  and 
Sir  John  Johnson  united  their  savages.  To  be  sure,  Johnson's 
men  were  white.  History's  verdict  is  that  they  were  more  sav 
age  and  brutal  and  cruel  in  their  warfare  than  the  wild  chil 
dren  of  the  forest  by  whose  side  they  fought.  The  summer 
had  brought  a  rich  harvest  to  the  glad  settlers.  When  the 


352  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

season  of  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf  approached  it  found  grana 
ries  almost  bursting  with  their  golden  treasures,  and  barns 
stuffed  to  the  rafters  with  the  sweetest  hay  and  oats. 

On  the  morning  of  October  16,  1780,  the  occupants  of  the 
little  mud  fort  at  Middleburg,  far  down  the  Mohawk  Valley  r 
and  the  settlers  of  the  lovely  region  looked  out  at  sunrise  on  a 
startling  sight.  In  every  direction  barns,  hay-stacks,  granaries, 
and  many  houses  were  on  fire.  The  product  of  the  summer's 
toil  was  mounting  to  the  skies  in  chariots  of  flame.  Everywhere 
the  people  fled,  abandoning  all  their  effects,  in  the  madness  of 
fear.  Their  alarm  was  justifiable.  Brant's  army  of  fifteen 
hundred  warriors  and  Tories  was  upon  them  without  a  single 
note  of  warning.  At  first,  the  enemy  mounted  their  little  can 
non,  and  prepared  to  besiege  the  fort.  But  the  little  mud 
redoubt  held  plucky  men. 

Finding  that  the  siege  would  delay  them,  Brant,  a  true  mas 
ter  of  guerrilla  warfare,  gave  up  the  notion  of  taking  the  fort, 
and  swept  on  down  the  valley  with  his  terrible  band  of  destroy 
ers.  In  their  course  the  whole  valley  was  laid  in  ruins.  Houses 
and  barns  were  burned,  the  horses  and  cattle  killed  or  takenr 
and  those  of  the  inhabitants  who  were  not  safely  within  the 
walls  of  their  little  fortifications  were  either  killed  or  taken 
captive.  The  very  churches  were  fired. 

But  the  torch  of  war  was  not  applied  to  the  property  of 
Tories.  Wherever  lived  a  loyalist  to  England,  the  horde  of 
destroyers  stayed  its  ruthless  hands.  They  passed  by,  leaving 
the  property  untouched.  Then  one  of  the  strange  sides  of  human 
nature  displayed  itself.  The  settlers,  furious  at  their  own  wrongs, 
and  aflame  with  passion  at  the  sight  of  their  disloyal  neighbors' 
immunity  from  harm,  issued  from  the  forts,  and,  with  their  own 
hands,  completed  the  desolation  of  the  valley,  destroying  every 
bit  of  Tory  property. 

As  the  invading  army  hurried  on,  transforming,  with  its 
breath  of  flame,  the  verdant  valley  into  a  mighty  cinder,  many 
a  cabin  became  the  scene  of  a  tragedy,  more  thrilling  than  those 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHA  WKS.  353 

performed  behind  the  flashing  footlights  of  any  theater.  The 
humble  pioneers  and  their  clinging  families  were  enrolled  in  the 
terrible  dramatis  personce. 

John  Vraoman  was  on  a  scout  some  miles  from  his  home. 
An  Indian  jumped  out  of  a  bush.  Vraoman  killed  him.  A 
second  Indian  bounded  forward,  his  long  and  sinewy  fingers 
reaching  to  clutch  the  white  man's  throat,  but  a  lightning  blow 
with  the  clubbed  musket  stretched  the  savage  senseless  on  the 
sod.  At  that  moment  a  swarm  of  savages  started  up  in  the 
forest.  Vraoman  fled.  By  great  skill  and  marvelous  endurance 
he  eluded  his  pursuers.  After  hours  of  strenuous  exertion,  he 
neared  his  cabin.  His  heart  leaped  for  joy  at  the  thought  that 
his  wife  and  children  were  saved  from  the  lonely,  unprotected, 
and  poverty-stricken  life  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless.  Near- 
ing  the  spot,  he  caught  a  smell  of  burning.  His  tired  steps 
were  quickened  with  anxiety.  Too  late !  The  cabin  was  a 
heap  of  glowing  coals,  the  wife  and  children  captives.  He  suf 
fered  -but  a  few  days  of  anguish.  Brant  sent  back  the  captives, 
with  a  note  on  birch  bark,  giving  them  sweet  liberty. 

A  farmer  was  unloading  a  wagon  of  corn  at  his  granary. 
Hearing  a  shriek  from  the  house,  he  looked  about  to  find  a 
swarm  of  Indians  and  Tories  surrounding  it  on  all  sides.  "The 
enemy,  my  boys !"  shouted  the  father,  but,  as  he  leaped  down 
from  the  wagon,  a  rifle  ball  pierced  his  patriotic  breast.  The 
shriek  came  from  his  wife,  who  was  tomahawked.  Her  five-year 
old  boy  ran  screaming  to  his  fallen  mother,  his  childish  heart 
bursting  with  the  frantic  agony  of  sorrow.  He  knelt  down  in  the 
crimson  pool  about  the  form  he  loved  so  well.  In  a  moment  a 
tomakawk  ended  his  grief  and  life  together. 

An  aged  man  in  the  fort  at  Middleburg  owned  a  mill  two 
miles  away.  His  son  had  passed  the  night  there  alone.  At 
the  first  discovery  of  the  Indians,  the  white-haired  father,  know 
ing  they  would  speedily  attack  the  mill,  started,  regardless  of 
earnest  remonstrances  on  account  of  the  danger  of  the  attempt, 
to  warn  his  son  of  his  peril.  He  hoped  to  reach  the  mill  before 


354  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  savages,  and  succeeded.  The  father  and  son  then  hurried 
back  to  the  fort,  to  find  it  already  attacked.  By  a  bold  move 
they  managed  to  get  inside  of  the  sheltering  redoubt.  Of  the 
havoc  wrought  by  Brant,  one  instance  was  the  suffering  of  the 
large  and  prominent  Vrooman  family,  three  of  whom  were 
killed  and  nine  carried  captive  to  Canada. 

These  incidents  are  but  a  few  drops  from  the  bloody  deluge. 
The  invaders  divided  into  two  parties.  One  marched  down  one 
side  of  the  Mohawk.  The  other  division  kept  pace  on  the 
opposite  side.  In  this  way  the  country  was  laid  waste  in  every 
direction.  The  goal  of  the  expedition  was  Schenectady.  It 
was  never  reached.  Flying  horsemen  had  long  since  carried 
the  news  of  the  invasion  to  Albany.  Too  much  time  had  been 
taken  up  in  the  advance.  General  Van  Rensselaer,  with  a 
strong  army,  was  on  the  way  to  meet  the  enemy.  Brant  and 
Johnson  began  a  retreat.  It  was  too  late.  A  heavy  battle  was 
fought.  At  sunset  the  advantage  was  with  the  Americans,  but 
they  failed  to  push  it,  and  fell  back  to  encamp.  That  night 
the  enemy  fled,  without  the  rustle  of  a  leaf  or  the  rattle  of 
a  bayonet. 

Some  funny  things  occur  in  a  forced  retreat.  Nine  Tories 
were  hurrying  through  the  forest,  each  trying  to  outdo  the 
other  in  the  speed  of  retreat.  Suddenly  a  stern  voice  cried  out 
in  the  darkness,  "  Lay  down  your  arms."  They  obeyed  with 
precipitation,  and  were  made  prisoners.  They  could  not  see 
their  hand  before  them.  Of  the  number  of  their  captors  they 
had  no  idea.  Every  Tory  was  securely  pinioned  and  led  away. 
In  the  morning  they  found  themselves  in  a  little  block-house. 
Their  captors  were  seven  militia-men.  The  nine  had  surren 
dered  to  the  seven ! 

An  incident  of  the  invasion  is  worth  relating.  The  Senecas 
were  led  by  a  half-Indian  named  Corn  Planter.  His  father 
was  a  white  trader,  who  had,  many  years  before,  on  one  of 
his  trips,  been  enamored  of  a  pretty  Seneca  maiden.  Corn 
Planter  became  one  of  the  living  evidences  of  his  affection. 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  355 

The  son  was  not  ignorant  of  his  father's  name  and  whereabouts. 
With  a  dozen  trusty  followers/ he  sought  the  old  man's  cabin, 
where  he  lived  in  peace  with  his  family,  and  took  him  prisoner. 
After  proceeding  a  few  miles  the  proud  Seneca  stepped  up,  and 
said  :  "  I  am  your  son.  You  are  my  father.  I  am  a  warrior. 
Many  scalps  have  I  taken.  Many  a  captive  have  I  tortured. 
Yet  you  have  nothing  to  fear.  If  you  will  come  with  me  to 
the  distant  lodges  of  my  people,  I  will  cherish  you  in  your  old 
age,  and  give  you  plenty  of  venison.  If  you  scorn  the  simple 
life  of  the  children  of  the  forest,  and  prefer  to  return  to  the 
arms  of  your  pale-face  squaw  and  the  caresses  of  your  pale-face 
ohildren,  my  brothers,  it  is  well.  You  are  free  to  choose." 

It  may  be  imagined  that  the  old  man,  who  was  or  wished  to 
be  ignorant  of  his  near  relationship  to  the  stalwart  savage, 
ohose  pretty  quickly,  and  scampered  off  home  as  fast  as  he 
could.  The  young  chief  bowed  to  his  wishes,  and  sorrowfully 
turned  to  hide  himself  in.  the  forest. 

The  common  name  of  John  Shell,  a  Dutch  settler  who  lived 
with  his  family  in  a  lonely  block-house  four  miles  from  Fort 
Herkimer,  has  been  embalmed  in  an  incident  which  comes  down 
to  us.  A  band  of  sixty  or  seventy  Mohawks  suddenly  sur 
rounded  the  little  fortress  one  day,  and  laid  siege.  Mrs.  Shell 
loaded  the  rifles,  while  her  husband  and  sons  fired  them.  The 
attack  lasted  from  two  o'clock  until  sunset.  McDonald,  the 
leader  of  the  enemy,  made  repeated  efforts  to  break  in  the  door 
of  the  structure.  He  was  in  the  act  of  using  a  heavy  iron 
crowbar  when  he  received  a  shot  in  his  leg.  He  fell.  None  of 
his  men  were  just  at  hand.  The  bold  Dutchman,  Shell,  flung 
open  the  door  and  dragged  him  in — a  prisoner.  The  cartridges 
found  on  him  were  greedily  seized  by  the  defenders,  whose 
stock  of  ammunition  was  dangerously  low. 

Enraged  at  the  capture  of  their  leader,  the  enemy  made  a 
furious  assault.  Five  guns  were  stuck  through  the  port-holes. 
Quick  as  flash,  Mrs.  Shell  seized  an  ax  and  ruined  every  gun 
by  bending  the  barrels.  As  the  Indians  fell  back,  Shell  ran  up 


356 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


to  the  second  story  and  calling  out  to  his  wife  told  her  Captain 
Small  was  at  hand  from  Fort  Dayton  with  re-enforcements. 
Then,  in  a  loud  voice,  he  shouted  to  the  imaginary  Small  to 

march  his  men 
around  by  the 
left  side.  It 
was  a  ruse,  and 
it  succeeded. 
The  Indians 
fled,  supposing 
that  a  heavy 
force  was  at 
hand.  Shell 
hastily  collected 
his  family,  and 
placing  such 
food  as  they 
had,  within 
reach  of  their 
wounded  pris 
oner,  set  out  for 
Fort  Dayton, 
leaving  McDon 
ald  in  solitary 
possession  of 

the  block-house.     He  was  removed  the  following  day,  but  died 
from  an  unskillful  amputation. 

The  war  of  the  American  Revolution  at  last  came  to  an  end. 
For  Brant's  wonderful  raids  there  was  no  longer  opportunity. 
He  received  from  the  British  government  for  his  tribe  a  new 
home  on  the  Grand  River,  Canada.  Here  he  devoted  himself 
to  the  work  of  civilizing  and  improving  his  people.  He  made 
another  trip  to  England,  being  received  with  more  splendor  and 
ceremony  than  before.  This  was  in  consideration  of  his  emi 
nent  services  in  the  Mohawk  valley. 


JOSEPH    BRANT. 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS.  357 

During  the  Indian  wars  of  the  west,  his  prejudices  were  all 
against  the  United  States,  though  he  never  actually  took  the 
field.  He  translated  a  number  of  devotional  books  into  English, 
and  sought  to  induce  his  people  to  give  up  the  uncertainties  and 
demoralizations  of  the  chase  and  substitute  agriculture.  His  own 
opinion,  as  expressed  at  a  dinner  party  given  him  by  the  dis 
tinguished  Aaron  Burr,  was  that  the  civilization  of  the  Indians 
must  take  place  through  their  intermarriage  and  mingling  of 
blood  with  the  whites.  His  correspondence,  of  which  much  is 
yet  extant,  reveals  a  rugged  and  powerful  intellect,  on  which 
his  associations  with  white  men  had  exerted  a  marked  influ 
ence.  He  encouraged  missionaries  to  come  among  his  people, 
and  renewed  his  Christian  professions,  which  had,  perhaps,  been 
suspended  or  eclipsed  while  he  was  hurling  his  warriors  like 
destroying  lightnings  upon  the  defenseless  inhabitants  of  the 
Mohawk  valley.  His  letters  reveal  a  proud,  sensitive  spirit, 
jealous  of  its  dignity,  and  which  could  not  brook  the  slightest 
imputation  of  dishonor.  Nothing  escaped  the  attention  of  his 
eminently  diplomatic  mind,  whether  it  transpired  in  the  cabinets 
of  ministers  or  around  the  council  fires  of  the  distant  tribes  of 
western  Indians.  He  erected  for  himself  a  fine  mansion  on  the 
western  shore  of  Lake  Ontario,  where  he  lived  in  unprecedented 
splendor.  Here  he  held  his  barbaric  court,  "  with  a  retinue  of 
thirty  negro  servants,  and  surrounded  by  gay  soldiers,  cavaliers 
in  powdered  wigs  and  scarlet  coats,  and  all  the  motley  assem 
blage  of  that  picturesque  era." 

Two  or  three  times  Brant  condescended  to  visit  the  eastern 
cities,  receiving  every  attention  from  the  great  men  of  the  day. 
That  "uneasy  lies  the  head  which  wears  a  crown"  was  freshly 
demonstrated  by  his  career.  On  one  of  his  trips  east,  he  was 
followed  by  an  assassin,  a  Dutchman,  from  the  Mohawk  valley, 
whose  entire  family  had  been  murdered  by  Brant's  warriors. 
The  man  shadowed  him  day  and  night,  seeking  a  convenient 
opportunity  to  kill  him.  Brant  knew  his  danger,  and  took  un 
usual  precautions.  One  day  the  assassin  had  well-nigh  accoin- 


358  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

plished  his  purpose.  Brant  had  taken  a  room  in  a  New  York 
hotel,  which  fronted  on  Broadway.  Looking  out  of  the  win 
dow,  he  saw  his  enemy  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street, 
aiming  a  gun  at  him.  The  alarm  was  given,  and  the  Dutch 
man  taken  care  of. 

On  the  way  home,  after  this  or  a  similar  trip,  Brant  wanted 
to  go  by  way  of  the  Mohawk  valley,  a  region  so  dear  to  him  by 
reason  of  its  associations,  older  than  the  dreadful  scenes  of  the 
war.  There  as  a  boy  he  had  been  employed  at  the  baronial  hall 
of  his  friend  and  patron,  Sir  William  Johnson.  There,  too,  his 
people  had  from  time  immemorial  lived,  and  loved,  and  died. 
But  the  people  of  the  valley  confronted  this  sentiment  of  Brant 
with  a  widely  different  one.  If  any  man  was  ever  hated  with 
all  the  abhorrence  of  which  human  nature  is  capable,  such  was 
the  feeling  with  which  Brant  was  regarded  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  Mohawk  valley.  When  word  came 
that  the  monster  was  to  pass  through  the  country,  the  settlers 
prepared,  with  exultant  curses,  to  kill  him.  A  rumor  of  the 
danger  reached  Brant  in  time  for  him  to  change  his  route  and 
escape  secretly  by  another  way. 

Brant's  ascendancy  among  the  Iroquois  was  not  maintained 
without  some  heart-burnings.  His  old  enemy,  Red  Jacket, 
gathered  a  number  of  malcontents  around  his  standard,  and  at 
a  pretended  meeting  of,  the  sachems  of  the  confederacy,  during 
Brant's  absence,  he  was  impeached  and  formally  deposed  from 
the  head  chieftancy  of  the  Six  Nations.  When  the  old  warrior 
returned  he  confronted  his  enemies  in  public  council,  boldly 
defied  and  denied  their  calumnies  and  charges,  and  demanded  a 
fair  hearing  before  his  people.  For  reasons  which  Americans 
of  the  present  generation  will  readily  understand,  the  military 
fame  and  prestige  of  the  great  war  chief  overcame  even  the 
burning  invectives  of  Red  Jacket,  and  Brant  triumphed  over  all 
opposition. 

One  unfortunate  affair  made  a  terrible  impression  on  his 
mind,  and  he  was  never  really  himself  again.  One  of  his  sons 


JOSEPH  BRANT  AND  THE  MOHAWKS. 

was  in  the  habit  of  getting  drunk.  While  on  one  of  his  sprees 
he  entered  his  father's  room  and  commenced  a  storm  of  cursing 
and  abuse.  The  exact  circumstances  are  unknown,  but  Brant, 
in  a  sudden  heat,  stabbed  his  son,  from  the  effects  of  which  he 
died.  The  old  man  never  ceased  to  lament  the  deed,  and  it  is 
said  would  lie  awake  at  night  and  cry  by  the  hour. 

On  November  24,  1807,  as  the  shrill  winds  of  winter 
began  to  whistle  through  the  forest,  and  the  first  light  snow 
spread  a  delicate  mantle  over  the  earth,  the  old  chief  looked  out 
upon  the  whitened  landscape  for  the  last  time.  He  had  been  in 
ill-health  for  quite  awhile.  That  day  a  sudden  change  for  the 
worse  took  place.  After  several  hours  of  suffering,  Thayen- 
danegea,  Joseph  Brant,  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  died. 
Among  his  latest  words  were  those  to  his  adopted  nephew,  in 
which  he  uttered  the  burden  of  his  heart.  "Have  pity  on  the 
poor  Indian;  if  you  can  get  any  influence  with  the  great, 
endeavor  to  do  them  all  the  good  you  can." 

In  1876,  William  Cullen  Bryant,  the  poet,  whose  lyre  i& 
now  attuned  to  celestial  harmonies,  visited  the  old  house  of 
Brant.  His  description  will  form  a  pleasant  conclusion  to  our 
story. 

"  To  visit  this  quaint  old  mansion  and  find  it  untenanted  for 
the  moment,  as  chanced  to  the  writer  one  sunny  day  last  June, 
is  like  stepping  backward  from  the  nineteenth  century  into  the 
last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth.  You  enter  a  spacious  hall,  and 
turning  to  the  right,  find  yourself  in  a  large  old-fashioned  draw 
ing-room,  whose  front  windows  look  out  upon  the  blue  expanse 
of  Burlington  Bay. 

"On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  is  a  grate,  surmounted  by 
an  absurdly  tall  mantel,  and  flanked  on  each  side  by  a  curious, 
arched  recess.  Life-size  oil  portraits  of  Brant,  in  his  paint  and 
war-dress ;  of  John  Brant,  the  ideal  of  an  Indian  hero ;  of  Sir 
William  Johnson  and  members  of  his  family,  in  stiff  wigs  and 
scarlet  coats,  richly  laced,  stare  down  upon  you  from  the  walls. 

"  Upon  the  mantel  lies  Brant's  dagger,  which  drank  the  blood 


360  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

of  his  ruffianly  son  Isaac ;  carelessly  disposed  upon  a  table  are 
a  pair  of  richly  ornamented  dueling  pistols,  the  gift  of  the  Duke 
of  Northumberland ;  there  lies  his  tomahawk,  yonder  hangs  the 
queer  conch-shell  medal,  which  he  wore,  and  in  the  corner  is 
flung  his  small  sword,  its  ivory  handle  studded  with  gems,  a  tes 
timonial  from  his  sacred  majesty,  George  the  Third,  to  his  gal 
lant  and  faithful  ally.  So  carelessly  are  these  and  other  relics 
strewn  about  the  room  as  to  lend  encouragement  to  the  fancy 
that  the  old  chief  had  hurriedly  thrown  them  down,  expecting 
momentarily  to  return  and  claim  them.  A  dreamy  atmosphere 
pervades  the  apartment,  disposing  the  mind  to  reverie  and  ren 
dering  it  hospitable  to  visions  of  the  past. 

"  The  writer,  on  the  occasion  mentioned,  instinctively  cast  a 
look  toward  the  door,  expecting  to  hear  the  tread  of  moccasined 
feet,  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  those  swarthy  features,  and  be  trans 
fixed  by  a  glance  of  the  basilisk  eyes  which  are  reproduced  in 
the  portrait  over  the  mantel.  But  the  spell  was  broken  by  the 
hum  of  approaching  voices,  and  a  peal  of  childish  laughter,  pro 
ceeding  from  three  bright  little  elves,  descendants  in  the  fourth 
generation  from  Joseph  Brant. 

"I  can  readily  credit  the  rumor  reported  to  me  in  good  faith 
by  a  neighboring  farmer,  that  Brant  house  is  haunted." 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  TWO  BOYS  FROM  CHAMBLEE. 


361 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  ESCAPE  OF  TWO  BOYS  FROM  CHAMBLEE. 

HEN  Sir  John  Johnson  made  his  secret  and 
expeditious  return  to  the  Mohawk  Valley  in 
1780,  for  the  recovery  of  the  treasure  which 
at  the  time  of  his  flight  he  had  buried  in  the 
cellar  of  Johnson  Hall,  his  followers  took  cap 
tive  Jacob  and  Frederick  Sammons.  They  were 
the  sons  of  an  old  gentleman  who  had  been 
occupying  the  Hall  since  the  confiscation  of  the 
baronet's  estate  by  the  American  Congress. 

The  two  young  men  were  carried  prisoners  to  the  fort  at 
Chamblee,  in  Canada.  This  prison  was  one  of  the  most  loath 
some  and  awful  dungeons  from  which  the  light  of  day  was  ever 
shut  out.  On  their  arrival  Jacob  Sammons  took  an  accurate 
survey  of  the  garrison  and  the  facilities  for  escape.  He  noticed 
that  the  guards  were  few  and  undisciplined.  Once  a  day  the 
door  of  the  prison  was  opened  for  an  inspection  by  the  com 
manding  officer.  The  quick  eye  of  Sammons  also  detected  the 
fact  that  the  guards  stacked  their  arms  in  the  prison-yard.  He 
at  once  conceived  a  bold  plan  for  the  escape  of  the  prisoners, 
of  which  no  less  than  forty  were  immured  in  the  awful  place. 
When  the  door  was  opened  for  the  inspection,  a  part  of  the 
prisoners  were  to  rush  upon  and  overpower  the  sentinels,  while 
the -rest  were  to  rush  forth  and  seize  the  arms  there  stacked  up. 
But  the  timid  prisoners  shrank  from  the  bold  undertaking. 

Foiled  in  this,  Jacob  Sammons  and  his  brother  Frederick 
studied  day  and  night  for  some  mode  of  escape  for  themselves 


362  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

alone.  Within  a  few  days  their  ingenuity  had  devised  a  plan. 
The  prisoners  were  allowed  a  supply  of  spruce  beer.  Each  day 
two  prisoners,  under  a  guard  of  five  men,  with  fixed  bayonets, 
went  to  the  brew-house  to  obtain  the  keg  of  beer.  Sammons  also 
discovered  that  the  garrison  generally  carried  their  arms  charged, 
but  not  primed.  By  a  shrewd  stratagem  Jacob  and  Frederick 
Sammons  contrived  one  day  to  be  sent  together  for  the  beer. 
Their  plan  was  at  a  certain  point  to  break  boldly  from  the 
guards  and  run  for  their  lives,  hoping  that  the  delay  occasioned 
by  the  lack  of  priming  in  the  muskets  might  enable  them  to 
escape  beyond  the  reach  of  gun-shot. 

At  the  concerted  moment  the  project  was  boldly  executed. 
The  young  men  dashed  across  the  plain  at  the  top  of  their 
speed.  The  excited  garrison  at  once  gave  hot  pursuit.  Jacob 
had  not  proceeded  far  when  he  stumbled  into  an  open  ditch, 
and  was  thrown  down  with  terrific  violence.  His  ankle  was 
badly  sprained.  Frederick  turned  to  the  assistance  of  his 
brother,  but  the  latter  generously  commanded  him  to  leave  him 
to  his  chances  and  make  good  his  own  escape.  Jacob  managed 
to  crawl,  unobserved,  from  the  ditch  into  a  clump  of  bushes, 
where  he  hid  himself  between  two  logs.  The  guards  passed  him, 
unnoticed,  in  their  wild  pursuit  of  Frederick.  The  fleet-footed 
young  Dutchman  was,  however,  soon  lost  to  their  sight.  In 
half  an  hour  they  returned  greatly  out  of  breath  and  furiously 
enraged. 

The  brothers  had  arranged,  in  case  of  separation,  to  meet  at 
a  certain  spot  at  ten  o'clock  that  night.  Under  cover  of  dark 
ness,  Jacob  Sammons  left-  his  hiding-place  and  made  his  way  to 
the  rendezvous.  No  one  was  there.  He  called  aloud  to  his 
brother  Frederick,  but  only  the  sighing  of  the  midsummer- 
night  breeze  among  the  branches  of  the  forest  answered  hi& 
anxious  cries. 

Disheartened  at  the  disappointment,  Jacob  at  once  began  his 
journey  through  the  wilderness.  On  the  morning  of  the  14th 
of  June  he  was  about  to  swim  the  Sorel  River^  near  Fort  St. 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  TWO  BOYS  FROM  CHAMBLEE.  363 

Johns,  and  make  his  way  homeward  by  the  shores  of  Lake 
Champlain.  Just  as  he  entered  the  water  he  discovered  a  boat 
approaching  filled  with  British  soldiers.  He  concealed  himself 
quickly  and  eluded  their  observation.  Proceeding  two  or  three 
miles  through  the  forest  he  heard  a  noise  from  a  vast  number 
of  woodmen's  axes.  A  party  of  several  hundred  men  from  the 
fort  were  felling  timber  to  strengthen  its  defenses.  By  a  wide 
detour  he  succeeded  in  avoiding  these  enemies. 

About  noon  he  came  upon  a  small  clearing,  in  the  center  of 
which  stood  a  cabin.  Near  by  a  man  and  a  boy  were  in  a  small 
field,  hoeing  potatoes.  Sammons,  who  was  famished  for  want  of 
food,  resolved  to  throw  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  these  people. 
Instead  of  finding,  as  he  hoped,  a  friendly  Frenchman,  the  for 
ester  proved  to  be  a  malignant  Tory,  and  declared  his  intention 
of  surrendering  Sammons  to  the  soldiers.  Sammons  replied  that 
it  was  more  than  he  could  do,  that  all  Canada  should  not  take 
him  alive. 

The  Tory  returned  to  his  potato  field,  leaving  Sammons  upon 
the  door-step,  where  the  compassionate  wife  of  the  forester  gave 
him  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk.  Hanging  on  the  wall  Sammons 
discovered  a  musket,  powder-horn,  and  bullet-pouch.  If  he 
could  possess  himself  of  these  he  felt  that  he  might  make  his 
way  home.  He  traveled  into  the  woods  but  a  little  way.  At 
nightfall  he  returned  to  the  cabin  to  take  the  weapon  by  force. 
Scarcely  had  he  entered  when  the  noise  of  voices  without  caused 
him  to  hurry  up  the  ladder  into  the  loft.  Here,  through  the 
cracks  of  the  floor,  he  beheld  with  anxiety,  eleven  British 
soldiers  buying  and  drinking  milk  from  the  people  of  the  house. 
His  situation  was  critical.  At  any  moment  the  proprietor  of 
the  house  might  discover  his  presence.  At  last  the  soldiers 
were  satisfied,  and  left  the  place. 

The  man  and  boy  went  to  bed.  Jacob  stealthily  descended 
from  the  loft.  The  good  woman  supplied  him  with  another 
bowl  of  bread  and  milk.  She  tried  to  persuade  him  to  sur 
render  himself  to  the  British.  Her  arguments  failing,  she  told 
20 


364  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

him  that  if  he  would  conceal  himself  in  the  woods  for  two  days 
she  would  procure  for  him  a  supply  of  provisions  and  a  pair  of 
stout  shoes.  To  this  dangerous  scheme  Sammons  would  by 
no  means  consent:  He  was  meanwhile  undergoing  an  inward 
struggle  as  to  whether  he  should  take  the  gun  and  ammuni 
tion.  He  reflected  that  the  theft  would  discover  to  the  good 
woman's  husband  the  fact  that  he  had  returned  to  the  cabin, 
and  perhaps  might  betray  the  kindness  of  the  woman.  With 
reluctant  heart  he  resolved  to  forego  this  breach  of  hospitality, 
and  without  food,  or  the  means  of  procuring  it,  he  gallantly  bade 
his  benefactress  farewell,  and  plunged  into  the  forest. 

Arriving  at  the  shore  of  Lake  Champlain,  he  came  upon  a 
cabin  full  of  soldiers.  A  canoe  was  lying  at  the  water's  edge. 
Waiting  till  night,  when  the  soldiers  were  asleep,  Sammons 
boldly  jumped  into  the  canoe,  and  rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of 
an  easy  journey  home,  proceeded  up  the  lake.  His  glad  antic 
ipations  were  not  realized;  As  he  approached  the  Isle  Au  Noix, 
he  discovered  a  fortification.  A  hundred  bayonets  glistened  in 
the  moonlight.  To  pass  the  fort  was  impossible.  He  ran 
his  canoe  ashore,  and  footsore  and  famished,  again  began  his 
dreary  journey  through  the  forest.  His  only  subsistence  was 
birch-bark. 

On  the  fourth  day  he  succeeded  in  catching  a  fish,  from  a 
brook,  with  his  hands.  Being  without  means  to  make  a  fire,  he 
ate  it  raw.  His  feet  were  cut  and  bruised,  his  legs  full  of 
thorns.  When  he  fell  asleep  hungry  swarms  of  mosquitoes 
feasted  upon  him.  On  the  fifth  day  he  caught  a  black  duck. 
Removing  the  feathers,  he  at  once  devoured  the  whole,  not 
omitting  head  and  feet.  He  then  attempted  the  eggs  which  he 
found  under  the  duck.  In  the  first  he  found  a  half-formed 
duckling.  Such  food  even  his  appetite  would  not  accept. 

On  the  tenth  day  he  lay  down,  unable  to  proceed  farther. 
Lying  there,  half  stupefied,  he  felt  a  sharp  pain  in  his  right  leg. 
It  was  the  bite  of  a  rattlesnake.  Quick  as  thought,  he  cut  out 
the  poisoned  flesh  with  his  pocket-knife.  Next  he  seized  the 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  TWO  BOYS  FROM  CHAMSLEE.  365 

serpent,  killed  it,  and  made  a  meal  off  of  the  body.  Further 
advance  was  impossible.  Unable  to  crawl  more  than  a  few  feet, 
he  lay  here  for  three  days,  subsisting  upon  the  remains  of  the 
serpent.  At  last,  when  this  resource  was  gone,  his  weakness 
increased  hourly.  Feeling  that  death  was  very  near,  he  crawled 
to  the  foot  of  a  tree,  and  feebly  attempted  to  carve  his  name 
upon  the  bark,  hoping  that  when  his  bones  were  found,  they 
might  not  be  unrecognized. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  he  felt  somewhat  stronger  the 
next  day.  He  cut  up  his  hat  and  waistcoat,  and  bound  them 
upon  his  feet.  Hobbling  along  through  the  day  he  came  upon 
human  habitations.  It  proved  to  be  the  town  of  Pittsford.  Here 
kind  hands  bound  up  his  wounds  and  ministered  to  his  wants. 
In  time  he  made  his  way  home. 

Not  less  interesting  were  the  adventures  of  Frederick  Sam- 
mons.  Having  escaped  the  pursuit  from  the  fort  at  Chamblee, 
he  concealed  himself  until  the  hour  at  which  he  was  to  meet  his 
brother  at  the  rendezvous.  He  arrived  at  the  appointed  time, 
but  Jacob,  as  we  have  seen,  had  come  and  gone.  He  lingered 
till  toward  morning,  then  crossed  the  river.  He  proceeded  to 
a  barn,  hoping  to  find  some  chickens  on  which  to  breakfast. 
No  poultry  was  to  be  found,  but  a  fine  bullock  afforded  a  better 
prospect.  Frederick  succeeded  in  cutting  the  animal's  throat. 
He  then  severed  one  of  the  hind  quarters,  shouldered  it,  and 
marched  off  into  the  forest.  Arrived  at  a  safe  retreat,  he 
dressed  the  beef,  cut  it  into  strips,  and  packed  it  in  a  knap 
sack  made  from  the  skin. 

Proceeding  five  or  six  miles  he  came  across  a  cabin.  Here 
he  attempted  to  obtain  bread,  salt,  and  means  for  kindling  a 
fire.  The  latter  only  could  he  procure.  Again  making  his  way 
through  the  woods,  he  paused  to  build  a  fire,  dressed  and  smoked 
his  beef,  and  cured  the  knapsack  of  rawhide. 

On  the  third  day  he  had  the  good  luck  to  kill  a  fawn. 
Reaching  Lake  Champlain  he  found  an  old  canoe.  Scarcely 
had  he  launched  the  shell,  when  it  split  asunder  and  he  was 


366  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

precipitated  into  the  water.  He  journeyed  on  by  land  in  good 
spirits  until  the  dose  of  the  seventh  day. 

He  had  slept  but  an  hour  or  two  when  he  was  attacked  by 
an  enemy.  The  foe  could  not  be  seen  nor  heard,  but  only  felt 
by  Frederick.  The  same  enemy  had  attacked  him  before.  Poor 
Sammons  recognized  him  at  once.  For  several  years  this  sleep 
less  foe  had  followed  him  day  and  night,  seeking  a  favorable 
moment  to  accomplish  his  destruction.  The  name  of  the  enemy 
was  Pleurisy.  A  drenching  rain  came  on,  continuing  steadily 
for  three  days,,  during  which  time  Sammons  lay  at  the  foot  of 
a  tree  without  food,  fire,  or  shelter,  and  racked  by  the  most 
agonizing  pains. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  the  sun  rose  clear.  The 
sufferer  crawled  to  a  stagnant  pond  near  by  for  a  sup  of  water 
to  quench  his  feverish  thirst.  The  pool  was  full  of  frogs. 
Some  of  these  he  caught.  Unable  to  build  a  fire  he  ate  them 
raw.  For  fourteen  days  Frederick  Sammons  lay  here  unable 
to  proceed.  He  was  on  a  high  bluff,  in  full  view  of  the  lake. 
Supposing  that  he  would  die,  he  nevertheless  hung  his  hat  on 
a  pole  as  a  signal  of  distress.  At  last  some  sailors  on  a  pass 
ing  ship  noticed  the  hat.  A  boat  was  sent  ashore  and  Sam 
mons,  living  but  speechless,  was  transferred  to  the  vessel. 

After  all  this  suffering  Frederick  Sammons  was  again  a  pris 
oner  of  the  British  !  As  soon  as  he  recovered  he  was  returned 
to  Chamblee.  Heavy  irons  were  forged  about  his  limbs  by 
blacksmiths.  He  was  not  allowed  to  leave  his  dungeon  for  a 
moment.  The  irons  inflicted  wounds  upon  his  limbs,  eating 
their  way  to  the  bone;  even  then  an  order  for  the  removal  of 
the  irons  was  obtained  by  the  prison  surgeon  with  the  greatest 
difficulty. 

In  November  of  1781  Sammons  was  transferred  from  Cham 
blee  to  another  hell-hole  called  Prison  Island.  Here  with  nine 
fellow-prisoners  he  organized  a  conspiracy  for  escape.  By  this 
attempt  Sammons  succeeded  in  having  the  irons  restored  to  his 
limbs.  In  time,  however,  the  manacles  were  again  removed. 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  TWO  BOYS  FROM  CHAMBLEE.  367 

y  day,  week  by  week,  month  by  month,  Sammons 
watched  with  sleepless  vigilance  for  an  opportunity  for  escape. 
At  last  it  came.  On  the  17th  of  August  fifty  prisoners  were 
allowed  to  walk  to  the  foot  of  the  island  around  the  shores  of 
which  a  chain  of  sentinels  was  extended.  Sammons  and  a 
fellow-prisoner,  McMullen,  watched  their  chance.  The  nearest 
sentinel  happened  to  turn  his  back.  The  two  prisoners  at  once 
leaped  down  a  precipice  into  the  foaming  surges  of  the  St.  Law 
rence.  The  tremendous  current  bore  them  swiftly  away.  Before 
the  sentinel  discovered  the  escape  they  were  beyond  reach. 
Both  men  were  expert  swimmers.  In  their  perilous  course  they 
descended  foaming  rapids,  one  hundred  and  fifty  rods  long.  Two 
miles  below  the  island  they  attempted  to  land,  but  the  buffeting 
waves  only  mocked  their  mad  endeavors  and  drove  them  farther 
from  the  shore. 

Two  miles  farther  down  they  succeeded  better.  A  cluster 
of  houses  stood  near  the  place  of  their  landing.  Arming  them 
selves  with  clubs,  they  entered  the  nearest  house.  No  one  was 
in  it  except  an  old  lady.  She  was  paralyzed  with  fright  at  the 
wild  and  savage  appearance  of  the  escaping  prisoners.  The 
latter  ransacked  the  house  for  food,  fire-arms,  and  ammunition. 
The  old  woman  was  poor.  The  plunderers  found  only  one  small 
loaf  of  bread.  This  they  took,  broke  in  two,  and  greedily 
devoured.  To  them  it  was  but  a  crumb.  The  old  lady  had 
depended  upon  it.  for  a  week's  subsistence !  Only  one  other 
article  in  the  house  was  worth  taking.  This  was  a  small,  thin 
blanket.  It  was  the  old  woman's  bed-cover.  In  the  bitter  cold 
of  the  Canadian  winter  she  had  been  accustomed  to  double  it 
and  draw  herself  up,  so  as  to  make  it  cover  her  shriveled  limbs. 
This,  she  said,  was  "quite  a  luxury." 

As  the  prisoners  started  to  leave  the  house  they  were 
assaulted  by*  two  Canadians.  In  criminal  courts  insanity  is  a 
defense.  Imprisonment  makes  men  insane.  The  prisoners  beat 
the  two  Canadians  to  the  ground  with  their  clubs,  and  yet  were 
innocent.  They  made  their  way  to  the  woods.  Amid  excessive 


368  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

hardships  they  pursued  their  journey  homeward.  For  the  first 
few  days  they  subsisted  on  a  calf  which  they  had  stolen.  Both 
men  were  destitute  of  pantaloons.  Their  hats  they  bound  upon 
their  feet. 

At  last  they  reached  Schenectady.  They  had  forgotten 
their  appearance.  They  were  half  naked.  Their  nails  were  an 
inch  long.  During  their  lengthened  captivity  their  hair  and 
beards  had  grown  into  vast  and  matted  masses.  The  people  of 
Schenectady  gathered  around  them,  supposing  they  were  wild 
men  of  the  woods.  Suddenly  a  lady  named  Ellis  recog 
nized  Frederick  Sammons.  She  rushed  through  the  crowd, 
seized  his  hands,  and  fainted.  The  adventures  of  the  fugitives 
were  over. 

One  singular  coincidence  remains  to  be  mentioned.  At  the 
time  when  Jacob  Sammons  lay  weak  and  exhausted  on  the  shore 
of  Lake  Champlain,  and  tried  to  carve  his  name  on  the  tree, 
that  his  bones  might  not  be  without  a  memorial,  his  brother 
Frederick  was  near  at  hand,  with  his  hat  hoisted  upon  the  pole 
as  a  signal  of  distress.  At  the  time  of  their  greatest  suffering, 
when  each,  ignorant  of  the  other's  fate,  felt  that  death  was  near 
at  hand,  the  brothers  were  not  two  miles  apart ! 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS.  369 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS. 

JHE  keys  to  history  are  the  names  of  its  epochs. 
Every  remarkable  period  somehow  and  from 
somewhere  takes  to  itself  a  name.  It  is  the 
way  the  people  have  of  writing  history.  The 
great  masses  of  humanity  have  neither  time  to 
write  elaborate  histories  of  the  age  in  which 
they  live,  nor  have  their  posterity  time  to  read 
them.  The  millions  simply  give  a  name  to  their 
age.  They  place  an  everlasting  brand  upon  its  brow,  which  it 
must  wear  forever  amid  the  great  procession  of  historic  periods. 
The  mighty  artist  paints  the  picture  complete  at  a  single  stroke. 
Such  a  name  was  that  given  by  the  French  to  the  climax  of 
their  revolution — the  Reign  of  Terror.  It  is  itself  a  panorama. 
It  is  itself  a  whole  historical  library.  Others  may  write  and 
elaborate  the  details.  These  words  tell  it  all. 

Of  this  sort  is  the  title  of  this  chapter.  Among  the  settlers 
of  the  Ohio  valley  the  year  1777  stood  out  in  a  solitude  of 
horror.  Standing  in  the  midst  of  a  long  series  of  years  dark 
ened  by  ceaseless  conflict  with  the  savages,  it  was  darker  than 
the  darkest.  It  was  bloodier  than  the  bloodiest.  It  stood 
alone,  a  lofty  mountain  peak,  amid  ranges  of  nestling  hills.  Then 
the  settlers  of  the  valley,  as  if  by  instinct,  gave  that  year  a 
name.  It  is  also  that  of  this  chapter.  Earth  has  run  red  with 
other  wars  when  they  were  at  rest  forever.  But  so  long  as 
men  look  at  the  past,  so  long  as  the  lovely  valley  of  the  Ohio 
unrolls  its  laughing  landscapes  to  the  sunlight,  the  children  of 


370  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  settlers,  hearing  that  name,  may  not  forget  the  sorrows  of 
their  fathers. 

KENTUCKI  !  This  was  the  land  of  promise  toward  which  the 
boldest  spirits  of  the  colonies  had  been  looking  for  several  years 
before  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolutionary  war.  New-year's 
day,  of  1777,  with  its  heavy  snow-fall  and  extreme  cold,  was 
celebrated  in  this  wilderness  by  several  hundred  settlers.  There 
were  forts  already  built  at  Harrodsburg,  Boonesborough,  and  at 
the  present  town  of  Stanford.  Amid  the  frolic  of  this  New-year's 
day  were  uplifted  the  cheery  voices  of  wives  and  mothers  and 
the  romping  noise  of  children,  as  well  as  the  loud  laugh  of 
shaggy  hunters  and  pioneers.  In  the  cabins  at  the  forts,  huge 
fires  burned  in  immense  fire-places.  Before  these  roasted  and 
sizzled  the  smoking  game  of  rarest  flavor,  while  the  bright 
yellow  of  the  sweet  but  homely  corn-dodger  silently  deepened 
into  a  richer  brown. 

When  at  last  the  women,  with  faces  which  had  caught  the 
ruddy  tint  of  the  roaring  fire,  announced  that  dinner  was  ready, 
there  was  great  clatter  to  drag  up  rude  seats  to  the  puncheon 
table.  If  the  feast  lacked  variety,  it  was  toothsome,  and  the 
mighty  appetites  of  the  family  and  guests  would  put  to  blush 
the  dainty  eaters  of  a  later  day.  Nor  was  the  entertainment 
thought  complete  without  hearty  draughts  of  liquors  that  are 
now  proscribed.  In  the  wild  loneliness  of  their  lives  these 
brave  people  forgot  not  the  holidays  which  they  had  been 
used  to  celebrate  amid  gentler  surroundings.  Amid  their 
rough  and  dangerous  career  these  days  shone  out  bright,  joyous 
and  happy. 

The  snow  had  not  yet  melted  from  the  cleared  fields  around 
the  Harrodsburg  fort,  in  March,  1777,  when  signs  became  man 
ifest  of  an  unusual  disturbance  among  the  Indians.  Four  miles 
from  the  fort,  Coomes,  Shores,  and  the  two  Ray  boys  were  fell 
ing  trees.  Without  a  moment's  warning  a  rifle  ball,  aimed  by 
a  dusky  hand,  killed  William  Ray. 

The  rest  undertook  to  escape  by  flight.     Shores  was  over- 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS.  371 

taken  and  captured.  Coomes,  unable  to  maintain  his  terrific 
speed,  flung  himself  among  some  briers,  and  was  overlooked. 
James  Ray  was  a  wonderful  runner.  The  swiftest  warriors 
could  not  get  within  gunshot  of  him.  In  thirty  minutes  he 
dashed  into  the  fort  and  gave  the  alarm.  There  was  a  dis 
agreement  as  to  the  course  to  pursue.  McGary,  father-in-law 
of  William  Ray,  wanted  to  go  to  the  rescue.  Harrod  opposed 
it.  In  the  heat  of  the  moment  the  men  raised  their  guns  to 
shoot.  McGary's  wife  rushed  between  and  snatched  her  hus 
band's  weapon.  McGary  galloped  off  with  thirty  men.  The 
bleeding  corpse  of  Ray  was  found.  Coomes  was  rescued.  Poor 
Shores  and  his  captors  were  gone. 

A  few  days  after  this  tragedy  a  cabin  outside  of  the  stock 
ade  was  seen  to  be  on  fire.  When  the  whites  attempted  to 
extinguish  it,  a  large  number  of  Indians  sprang  into  sight,  and, 
after  a  sharp  struggle,  drove  them  back  into  the  fort.  The 
Indians  encamped  in  full  view.  For  days  they  acted  as  if  no 
such  thing  as  a  white  man's  fort  was  anywhere  near.  It  was 
a  ruse.  One  afternoon,  without  a  single  indication  of  their  pur 
pose,  the  whole  force  rushed  forward  to  the  fort.  The  scheme 
failed.  In  three  minutes  forty  men  leveled  their  rifles  through 
the  port-holes  of  the  fort,  and  checked  the  advance  with  fatal 
volleys. 

During  the  night  the  Indians  decamped,  and  proceeded  to 
Boonesborough.  After  an  unsuccessful  attack,  they  again 
changed  their  purpose,  and  advanced  to  Logan's  Fort,  one  mile 
west  of  the  present  town  of  Stanford.  This  little  redoubt  and 
its  precious  population  of  mothers  and  children  was  defended 
by  thirteen  men. 

One  morning  the  women,  attended  by  half  the  garrison, 
went  out  to  milk  the  cows.  The  Indians,  concealed  in  a  cane- 
brake,  at  once  fired,  killing  three  men  outright.  A  fourth  fell 
wounded.  The  rest  fled  to  the  fort.  In  a  few  moments  the 
wounded  man  was  seen  dragging  himself,  with  great  difficulty, 
to  the  fort.  His  strength  gave  out;  he  could  proceed  no  farther. 


372  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  Indians  withheld  their  fire,  hoping  to  decoy  a  party  out 
of  the  fort  to  rescue  the  poor  fellow.  His  wife  and  children 
were  agonized  at  the  sight,  but  could  do  nothing.  Benjamin 
Logan,  the  builder  of  the  fort,  called  for  volunteers  to  join  him 
in  a  rescue.  One  man  responded. 

Thus  attended,  Logan  started.  At  the  gate  his  companion's 
heart  failed  him.  Logan  went  on  alone.  In  a  shower  of  balls 
Logan  ran  down  the  hill,  seized  the  wounded  man,  and  started 
back.  A  shot  brought  him  to  his  knees,  but  he  struggled  on 
till  the  great  wooden  gate  shut  out  the  danger.  A  furious 
assault  followed.  The  nine  men  within  the  fort  fought  the 
two  hundred  without.  Blind  with  rage,  the  assailants  again  and 
again  swarmed  up  the  hill,  and  again  and  again  retreated  in 
confusion  before  the  deadly  firing  from  the  fort.  Foiled  in 
their  attempt  to  carry  it  by  storm,  the  savages  determined 
to  reduce  it  by  famine. 

Days  passed.  The  supply  of  provisions  at  the  fort  grew 
smaller.  Their  ammunition  could  not  hold  out  much  longer. 
When  it  was  gone,  the  savages  would  beat  down  the  wooden 
gates,  and  the  defenders  of  the  fort  would  be  conquered.  Har- 
rodsburg  and  Boonesborough  would  not  be  able  to  divide  their 
own  dwindling  supplies,  even  if  they  could  be  reached. 

In  this  emergency,  the  lion-hearted  Logan  determined  to 
make  his  way  to  the  nearest  settlement  in  Virginia.  On  a 
dark  and  stormy  night  he  left  the  fort,  crawled  through  the 
lines  of  the  Indian  encampment,  and  struck  out  through  the 
wilderness.  He  reached  his  destination.  He  loaded  himself 
down  with  gunpowder  and  lead.  The  settlement  refused  to 
send  a  relief  party,  but  promised  to  dispatch  a  messenger  to 
the  Virginia  government  with  news  of  the  alarming  condition 
of  affairs  in  Kentucky.  With  this  promise,  he  hastened  to 
return.  His  way  was  beset  with  difficulties.  Rains  came  near 
ruining  his  gunpowder,  rivers  almost  overwhelmed  him,  savages 
pursued  him.  Yet  he  reached  the  little  fort  in  safety.  He 
brought  relief.  Days  and  weeks  passed.  Still  the  stubborn 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS.  373 

besiegers  did  not  move.  The  situation  at  the  fort  again  grew 
desperate.  At  this  point  a  relief  party,  under  command  of 
Colonel  Bowman,  arrived.  The  agony  was  ended.  Logan's 
Fort  was  saved. 

This,  however,  by  no  means  relieved  the  settlers.  Indians 
continued  to  swarm  into  the  country  from  all  directions.  Boones- 
borough  and  Harrodsburg  were  practically  in  a  continued  siege. 
Throughout  the  summer  a  camp  of  five  hundred  Indians  was 
maintained  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  Harrodsburg.  To 
procure  game  for  "the  fort  was  full  of  difficulty  and  danger. 
Yet  it  was  indispensable.  It  had  been  impossible  to  go  out  of 
the  fort  to  raise  a  crop  of  corn  in  the  cleared  land.  The  old 
supply  was  exhausted.  For  weeks  they  had  lived  in  the  fort 
without  bread.  Yet  the  daring  hunters  at  the  fort  braved 
every  danger.  McGary,  Harrod,  and  Ray  would  slip  out  of 
the  fort  at  night,  make  their  way  to  some  distant  game  cover, 
load  themselves  with  the  spoils  of  the  chase,  and  return  as  they 
went,  by  night. 

The  details  of  personal  heroism  can  not  be  followed.  One 
day,  Ray  and  McConnell  had  incautiously  gone  outside  the 
stockade  to  practice  target  shooting.  While  they  used  a  tree, 
some  Indians  used  them  for  the  target.  McConnell  was  killed. 
Ray  started  for  the  fort,  but  the  gate  was  closed  against  him. 
Twenty  feet  from  the  wall  was  a  stump,  behind  which  he  threw 
himself.  He  lay  in  this  situation  four  hours,  the  balls  of 
the  enemy  striking  within  a  few  inches  of  him.  At  last  a 
hole  was  dug  under  the  wall,  and  he  was  taken  into  the  fort  in 
that  way. 

Winter  alone  brought  relief  to  the  Kentuckians.  The  year 
had  been  one  of  unparalleled  hardship.  They  were  unable  to 
leave  the  country,  and,  reduced  almost  to  starvation,  had  carried 
on  a  defensive  war  with  overwhelming  forces  of  Indians  for 
nearly  a  year.  Of  the  causes  of  this  bloody  invasion  the  Ken 
tuckians  knew  little.  History,  however,  shows  that  it  was  a 
part  of  the  Revolutionary  War.  While  England  fought  the 


374  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Colonies  from  the  north  and  east,  her  emissaries  incited  the 
Indians  to  become  her  allies,  and  attack  the  exposed  settle 
ments  of  the  west.  Far  more  terrible  was  the  conflict  of  the 
bloody  and  ominous  year  of  the  three  sevens  in  the  western 
part  of  Virginia  than  in  Kentucky. 

In  the  war  of  1774  in  this  region,  known  as  "Lord  Dun- 
more's  war,"  the  great  Shawanese  chief,  Cornstalk,  had  shared 
with  his  warriors  the  crushing  defeat  of  Point  Pleasant.  When, 
therefore,  the  agents  of  Great  Britain  induced  all  the  tribes 
north-west  of  the  Ohio  to  unite  for  an  attack  on  the  whites,  and 
held  out  the  hope,  that  the  tide  of  pioneers  could  thus  be  rolled 
faack  even  beyond  the  Blue  Ridge,  Cornstalk  alone  refused  to 
enter  the  confederacy.  His  voice  alone  was  lifted  to  warn  of 
the  hopelessness  of  a  struggle  with  the  white  man.  Unable  to 
control  his  warriors,  he  went  to  the  fort  at  Point  Pleasant,  and 
laid  before  the  officers  the  details  of  the  great  conspiracy.  It 
was  decided  to  detain  him  and  his  company  as  hostages,  as 
security  for  the  neutrality  of  his  tribe.  To  this  he  assented. 
A  small  force  of  colonial  troops  was  also  collected  at  Point 
Pleasant. 

One  August  morning  Cornstalk  was  drawing  in  charcoal  on 
the  cabin  floor  a  map  of  the  route  the  Indian  army  would  take. 
Suddenly  a  halloo  was  heard  from  the  opposite  shore  of  the 
Ohio.  Cornstalk  recognized  it  as  the  voice  of  his  son  Elenip- 
sico.  He  had  grown  uneasy  at  his  father's  absence.  The  meet 
ing  of  father  and  son  was  full  of  joy.  The  next  day  two  sol 
diers,  out  hunting  across  the  river,  were  fired  on  from  a  thicket. 
Gilmore  was  killed.  The  shots,  and  the  flight  of  the  other 
hunter  to  the  shore  of  the  river,  were  perceived  at  the  fort.  A 
canoe  full  of  men  at  once  crossed  the  river.  Hamilton  was  res 
cued.  Gilmore's  scalped  and  bloody  corpse  was  recovered. 

The  soldiers  at  the  fort  were  enraged  beyond  measure. 
Many  of  them  had  suffered  from  the  savages.  One  had  been  a 
captive.  Another's  parents  had  been  massacred.  Yet  another's 
wife  had  been  carried  into  captivity  and  never  heard  of  more. 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS. 

The  entire  family  of  the  dead  Gilmore  had  been  massacred 
twelve  years  before.  These  cruelties  had  filled  their  hearts 
with  hatred  for  the  savages.  They  brooded  over  the  awful 
injuries. 

At  the  first  note  of  war  they  had  taken  the  field  against  the 
Indians.  Now,  when  the  "poor,  poor,  dumb  mouths"  of  Gil- 
more's  wounds  spoke  in  silent  eloquence  of  the  bloody  wrong, 
a  dreadful  cry  arose.  "  KILL  THE  INDIANS  IN  THE  FORT!"  The 
crowd  at  the  river  shore  where  the  canoe  had  landed,  inflamed 
by  the  cry,  became  a  maddened  mob.  Up  the  hill  they  started 
in  headlong  fury  to  carry  out  the  horrible  threat.  Two  officers, 
hearing  the  riot,  rushed  out  to  turn  aside  the  men  from  their 
awful  purpose.  But  the  flood-gates  of  murder  were  open,  and 
the  red  tide  would  have  its  way.  "  Interfere  with  us,  and  you 
are  dead  men !"  A  score  of  rifles  were  leveled  at  the  two 
young  officers. 

On  towards  the  fort  swept  the  mob,  as  if  possessed  by  soma 
raging  demon,  their  faces  crimson  with  fury,  and  every  voice 
lifted  in  hoarse  yells  of  rage.  A  woman  saw  them  coming. 
She  listened.  She  caught  the  advancing  cry  of  "Kill  the 
Indians."  She  ran  to  their  cabin,  and  told  them  in  hurried 
accents  that  the  soldiers  believed  that  Elenipsico  had  brought 
with  him  the  Indians  who  had  killed  Gilmore,  and  were  coming 
to  kill  them.  The  young  chief  vehemently  denied  the  charge. 
Lifting  his  hand  to  heaven,  he  called  on  the  Great  Spirit  to 
bear  witness  to  his  innocence.  As  the  shouts  of  the  mob  grew 
plainer  he  trembled  with  excitement.  Cornstalk  spoke  sooth 
ingly  to  him.  "Die  like  a  man.  The  Great  Spirit  has  sent 
you  here  to  die  with  your  father,  that  you  may  not  live  to  see 
the  sorrows  of  your  people.  It  is  best." 

The  words  quieted  Elenipsico.  He  seated  himself  on  a 
stool  to  rise  no  more.  Red  Hawk  attempted  to  hide  in  the 
chimney.  The  murderers  were  at  the  door.  Cornstalk,  with 
folded  arms  and  a  look  of  unspeakable  majesty  and  courage, 
advanced  to  receive  them.  No  word  escaped  his  lips. 


376  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

soldiers  fired.  Without  a  groan  the  mighty  chieftain  fell  dead, 
pierced  by  seven  balls,  slain  in  cold  blood  by  the  very  men 
whom  he  was  trying  to  serve  and  to  save.  Elenipsico  remained 
quiet.  In  a  moment  he  was  quiet  forever.  He  met  his  fate  in 
a  manner  worthy  of  his  fallen  sire.  Red  Hawk  was  dragged 
from  his  hiding-place,  and  killed.  A  fourth  Shawanese  was  then 
dispatched  with  the  clubs  of  the  murderers'  guns,  and  the  hor 
rid  massacre  was  ended. 

That  the  whites  murdered  their  friend  is  beyond  doubt.  The 
killing  of  Gilmore,  the  only  evidence  which  caused  them  to 
think  Elenipsico  had  brought  the  Indians  with  him,  and  the 
only  evidence  which  has  ever  been  adduced  to  prove  his  guilt, 
really  tended  strongly  to  prove  his  innocence.  Had  the  Indians 
been  companions  and  friends  of  Elenipsico  they  would  never 
have  committed  such  a  murder  while  their  own  great  chief, 
Cornstalk  and  his  son,  their  friend,  were  defenseless  and  in  the 
power  of  the  soldiers  at  the  neighboring  fort. 

It  is  said  that  after  the  battle  of  Point  Pleasant,  three  years 
before,  Cornstalk  called  his  warriors  together,  and  said  :  "  The 
Long  Knives  are  coming  to  burn  our  town,  and  will  soon  be 
in  sight.  What  shall  we  do."  After  a  long  silence  Cornstalk 
arose  and  said :  "  You  have  proposed  nothing.  We  have  been 
beaten  in  a  great  battle.  The  Long  Knives  are  pursuing  us. 
When  the  sun  rises,  he  will  look  upon  the  ashes  of  our  wig 
wams  and  the  corpses  of  our  people.  I  have  a  plan.  Let  us 
kill  our  women  and  children;  then  let  our  warriors  go  out  and 
fight  until  they  too  are  killed."  Still  there  was  no  response. 
"  Then,"  said  he,  striking  his  tomahawk  into  the  tent-post,  "  I 
will  go  and  make  peace."  He  did  so.  Dunmore's  war  was 
ended.  From  that  time  he  was  the  firm  friend  of  the  whites. 
For  this  friendship,  he  and  his  son,  the  pride  of  his  life,  the 
flower  of  the  tribe,  were  murdered  by  an  insane  mob. 

The  murderers  of  Cornstalk  were  rewarded.  During  the 
time  he  was  at  the  fort,  messengers  had  been  dispatched  to 
the  Virginia  authorities,  carrying  the  warning  of  the  coming 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS.  377 

storm,  and  asking  help.  But  the  eyes  of  the  people  were  turned 
in  another  direction.  The  thirteen  colonies  were  adrift  upon  the 
stormy  sea  of  revolution.  Every  purse  was  emptied,  every  arm 
lifted,  every  nerve  strained,  to  strengthen  the  cause  of  the  suf 
fering  patriots.  The  new  British  commander,  Burgoyne,  with 
his  splendid  army,  was  sweeping  down  from  the  north,  along  the 
shores  of  Champlain  and  George,  carrying  every  thing  before  him. 
Crown  Point,  Ticonderoga,  Fort  Edward,  Fort  Ann,  one  after 
another  were  falling.  But  there  yet  lay  in  his  path,  to  the 
heart  of  the  colonies,  the  army  of  the  north,  under  General  Gates. 

Toward  the  conflict  which  was  shortly  to  ensue,  every  pat 
riot  looked  with  anxiety  and  apprehension.  But  the  invasion 
of  Burgoyne  was  not  the  only  danger.  Lord  Howe  was  begin 
ning  his  advance  upon  Philadelphia,  the  capital  of  the  confeder 
acy.  Opposed  to  him  was  George  Washington,  with  his  army 
of  the  south,  that  immortal  band  which  had  seven  months  before 
startled  the  world  with  their  memorable  escape  over  the  crum 
bling  ice  of  the  Delaware,  at  Trenton,  and  who  were  destined  to 
make  another  retreat  not  less  famous,  in  which  their  bare  and 
bleeding  feet  were  to  mark  their  stony  path  to  Valley  Forge 
with  the  red  insignia  of  suffering. 

The  patriots  felt  that  the  eyes  of  the  world  were  upon  them. 
The  ragged  un-uniformed,  bare-footed  soldiery,  transfigured  and 
inspired  by  immortal  ideas,  suffered  and  fought  with  a  conscious 
ness  that  all  that  was  good  in  the  past,  and  all  that  was  bright 
in  the  future  of  humanity,  was  staked  upon  the  issue  of  the  war. 
The  women  of  the  colonies  toiled  in  field  and  kitchen,  at  the 
loom,  and  in  the  hospital,  to  supply  food,  clothing,  and  medi 
cine  to  the  starved  and  bleeding  troops.  Men  were  spending 
every  dollar  of  their  private  fortune  in  the  cause  of  liberty  and 
independence.  The  very  children  caught  the  spirit  of  self-sac 
rifice  from  their  sires.  Memorable  struggle  !  Immortal  victory ! 

What  then  could  Virginia,  the  home  of  Washington,  Jeffer 
son,  and  Patrick  Henry  do  for  the  frontier?  Nothing.  Her 
zeal,  her  attention,  her  resources,  were  all  absorbed  in  the 


378  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

momentous  conflict  of  the  Revolution.  On  receipt  of  the  news 
from  Point  Pleasant,  the  Virginia  authorities  were  filled  with 
dismay.  Not  a  man  could  be  spared  to  repel  the  Indian  inva 
sion.  A  small  quantity  of  ammunition  was  sent  to  each  of  the 
four  forts  which  at  that  time  guarded  the  entire  frontier — Red 
Stone,  on  the  Monongahela,  Fort  Pitt,  Fort  Henry,  at  Wheeling, 
and  the  one  at  Point  Pleasant.  Of  these,  Fort  Henry  had  no 
regular  garrison  at  all.  The  settlers  who  might  take  refuge  in  it 
were  its  only  defenders. 

In  addition  to  the  little  supply. of  ammunition,  the  Virginia 
government  dispatched  mounted  messengers  along  the  frontier, 
carrying  the  news  of  the  approaching  invasion  to  the  scattered 
cabins,  and  of  the  government's  inability  to  send  relief,  and 
advising  them  to  abandon  their  exposed  situations,  and  fly  to 
places  of  safety.  In  some  localities  these  tidings  of  alarm  were 
followed  by  hurried  preparations  for  flight,  but  generally  the 
brave  frontiersmen  were  reluctant  to  abandon  their  little  proper 
ties,  won  from  the  wilderness  by  such  persistent  toil,  and  began 
to  erect  block-houses,  store  provisions,  and  drive  their  cattle  into 
stockades,  by  way  of  defense  against  the  painted  invaders. 

During  the  summer,  isolated  murders  and  depredations 
became  more  and  more  frequent  along  t»he  frontier,  but  it  was 
not  till  the  latter  part  of  August  that  the  scouts  brought  word 
to  the  settlements  that  the  Indians  of  the  west  were  on  the  war 
path,  and  would  shortly  be  upon  them.  Where  the  blow  would 
fall,  no  one  could  tell.  The  anxious  settlers  gathered  in  their 
forts  and  block-houses. 

Wheeling,  a  village  of  thirty  houses,  was,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  Pittsburg,  the  most  important  place  on  the  Ohio  River. 
Fort  Henry  was  its  citadel.  The  fort  stood  on  a  lofty  bluff. 
It  was  an  oblong  square,  of  oak  palisades,  inclosing  two  or 
three  acres  of  ground.  At  the  corners  of  the  stockade  were 
block-houses.  Inside  were  the  magazine  and  a  few  solid  cabins, 
quarters  for  the  neighboring  settlers  who  might  take  refuge 
there.  In  the  few  years  since  their  coming,  the  founders  of 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  TELE  THREE  SEVENS.  379 

Wheeling  had  made  the  wilderness  to  blossom  as  the  rose. 
Standing  on  the  ramparts  of  Fort  Henry,  looking  out  over  the 
landscape,  one  might  have  seen  not  only  the  encircling  forests, 
the  distant  purple  of  the  mountains,  and  the  winding  river,  but 
also  green  pastures,  populated  with  contented  cattle,  waving 
.fields  of  yellow  grain,  leafy  orchards,  from  which  peeped  the 
blushing  fruit,  and  solid  barns  to  store  the  products  of  the  farms. 

On  the  31st  of  August,  1777,  scouts  brought  definite  infor 
mation  of  the  approach  of  five  hundred  Indians,  all  armed  with 
the  best  weapons,  and  abundantly  supplied  by  the  British  Gov 
ernment  with  ammunition.  They  were  commanded  by  a  white 
man.  On  receipt  of  this  intelligence,  every  one  repaired  to  the 
fort.  The  cattle  were  driven  into  the  stockade.  Provisions 
and  ammunition  were  hurriedly  carried  up  the  bluff,  and  lodged 
in  the  store-house  and  magazine.  Camp  fires  were  built  inside 
the  stockade. 

As  night  came  on,  the  women  and  children  spread  improvised 
beds  on  the  floors  of  the  cabins.  But,  though  they  retired,  they 
were  wide-awake.  The  women  talked  to  each  other  in  excited 
whispers.  The  crackling  of  a  twig  caused  shudders  of  appre 
hension.  Forty  times  during  the  night,  it  was  said :  "  There 
they  are !"  The  men  remained  outside  to  watch.  They  sat 
around  the  camp  fire,  gun  in  hand,  saying  little,  constantly  on 
the  alert,  and  grimly  awaiting  the  attack.  There  were  just 
sixty  men  in  the  fort.  But  the  night  passed  without  any  indi 
cation  of  the  presence  of  the  foe.  The  truth  was  the  Indians  had 
come  within  sight  of  the  fort.  They  had  seen  the  sparks  from 
the  camp-fires,  and  the  lights  in  the  block-houses.  This  showed 
that  the  garrison  was  awake.  The  night  attack  was  abandoned. 

For  this  disappointment  the  Indians  resolved  to  compensate 
themselves.  An  ambuscade  would  be  about  as  gratifying  as  the 
night  attack.  They  ranged  themselves  in  a  double  line  across 
the  fields.  When  the  sun  rose  they  lay  hidden  in  the  weeds.  The 
people  at  the  fort  did  not  suspect  the  trap.  A  white  man  and 
a  negro  went  out  to  drive  in  some  horses  which  had  been  over 

21 


380  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

looked  the  night  before.  They  walked  into  the  snare.  Six 
Indians  sprang  up.  The  white  man  was  killed.  But  the  negro 
was  purposely  allowed  to  escape,  that  he  might  carry  word  to 
the  fort  and  induce  more  men  to  come  out.  The  scheme  suc 
ceeded.  He  reported  that  there  were  six  Indians  down  there. 
Fourteen  men,  under  Captain  Mason,  at  once  set  out  to  punish 
the  murderers.  Sure  enough  they  found  six  Indians  retreating 
across  the  field.  The  pursuers  fired.  As  if  by  magic  the  field 
was  instantly  blackened  with  Indians  starting  up  from  their 
concealment.  Retreat  was  cut  off.  The  white  men  fell  on  the 
encircling  lines  with  the  fury  of  despair.  They  hacked,  clubbed, 
cut,  gashed,  and  beat  their  way  through.  We  said  "  they." 
Who?  The  fifteen?  No,  ihefour!  Eleven  never  got  through. 
Mason  and  three  men  started  to  run  for  the  fort.  William 
Shepherd's  foot  caught  in  a  grape  vine.  He  fell.  Before  he 
could  rise,  a  tomahawk  clove  asunder  his  skull.  Another  was 
shot  as  he  ran.  Mason  snatched  his  gun.  He,  himself,  was 
wounded  twice,  but  he  pressed  on  in  the  race  for  life,  fle  felt 
the  warm  breath  of  his  pursuer.  He  stopped  short,  tripped  up 
the  savage,  and  shot  him.  He  could  proceed  no  farther.  He 
crawled  into  a  hollow  log,  and  lay  there  till  the  pursuers  ceased 
to  be  such. 

The  discharge  of  guns  and  the  yells  of  the  Indians  had  'been 
the  only  information  at  the  fort  of  the  ambuscade.  As  has 
been  said,  it  was  a  little  after  sunrise.  A  dense  fog  from  the 
river  made  it  impossible  to  see  an  object  ten  feet  off.  The 
defenders  of  the  fort  saw  nothing.  Captain  Ogle  took  twelve 
more  men,  and  went  to  the  rescue.  He  was  a  little  in  the 
rear  of  his  party.  Suddenly  a  ring  of  Indians  was  discovered 
to  have  completely  surrounded  the  party  in  the  fog.  Ogle  alone 
was  left  outside  the  circle.  The  scene  that  followed  was  the 
worst  sort  of  a  butchery.  In  two  minutes  all  but  two  of  Ogle's 
men  were  killed.  Ogle  hid  himself  in  a  fence  corner.  An 
Indian  came,  and  sat  just  above  him  on  the  fence.  He  was 
wounded  and  in  pain.  He  did  not  notice  the  white  man.  When 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS.  381 

the  wounded  Indian  left.  Ogle  made  his  way  to  the  fort.  They 
were  making  a  list  of  the  dead.  Twenty-seven  of  the  best  men 
had  left  the  fort.  Only  four  had  returned  alive,  and  they  were 
wounded. 

There  was  no  time  to  grieve.  "  The  whole  force  of  Indians 
was  starting  up  the  hill,  flourishing  the  bloody  scalps  of  the 
slain,  for  an  assault  on  the.  fort.  These  scalps  were  valuable. 
Colonel  Hamilton,  the  British  commandant  at  Detroit,  who  had 
fitted  out  this  terrible  war-party,  paid  thirty  dollars  for  every 
settler's  scalp.  Twenty-three  scalps  were  worth  six  hundred 
and  ninety  dollars.  Hamilton  is  known  to  history  as  the  "hair 
buyer."  There  were  thirty-three  men  and  about  a  hundred 
women  and  children  left  in  the  fort.  Every  heart  was  heavy 
with  grief  from  the  terrible'  disasters  of  the  morning.  The 
Indians  called  for  a  surrender.  But  the  weakened  garrison 
replied  that  death  alone  could  conquer  them. 

The  Indians  began  the  attack.  At  first,  they  fought  at  long 
range,  firing  into  the  walls  of  the  palisade,  and  doing  no  execu 
tion.  The  defenders  of  the  fort  reserved  their  fire.  At  last, 
the  Indians  started  in  a  dead  run  for  the  gates  of  the  palisade,  to 
tear  them  down  and  force  an  entrance.  They  were  met  by  a 
deadly  fire  at  point-blank  range.  The  charging  column  wavered. 
To  hesitate  in  a  charge  is  to  retreat.  The  Indians  retreated. 

It  was  an  hour  before  this  maneuver  was  repeated.  This 
time  the  danger  to  the  fort  was  great.  Its  defenders  were 
splendid  marksmen.  Many  a  noble  form  was  stretched  lifeless 
in  the  grass  as  the  Indians  swarmed  up  the  slope.  But  the 
numbers  of  the  foe  were  so  great  that  it  seemed  almost  impos 
sible  to  beat  them  back.  Instead  of  retreating  at  the  first  fire, 
the  survivors  continued  to  advance. 

The  women  of  the  fort  were  busy.  Some  moulded  bullets. 
Others  loaded  guns,  and  handed  them  to  the  men,  who  could, 
as  a  consequence,  fire  three  times  where  they  could  only  have 
done  so  once.  The  garrison  seemed  to  multiply  itself.  Some 
of  the  women  stood  at  port-holes,  loading  and  firing  with  ' 


382  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

all  the  skill  and  precision  of  the  men.  The  battle  is  said  ta 
have  lasted  twenty-three  hours.  During  the  lulls  in  the  con 
flict,  the  women  would  carry  bread  and  meat  to  the  smoke- 
blackened  men  at  the  port-holes.  It  seemed  as  if  the  strength 
of  the  Indians  would  never  be  weakened.  It  seemed  as  if  their 
persistence  would  never  be  wearied  out.  During  all  that  time, 
not  an  eye  was  cldsed  in  slumber,  not  a  hand  removed  from 
a  rifle. 

There  were  many  incidents  of  personal  heroism  during  the 
siege.  As  there  was  another  siege  of  Fort  Henry  in  1782, 
there  has  been  great  dispute  as  to  which  siege  the  respective 
incidents  belong.  The  best  authorities  differ.  But  for  our  pur 
pose,  this  doubt  is  unimportant.  The  place,  persons,  and  cir 
cumstances  were  the  same  at  both  sieges.  The  defenses  were 
equally  heroic.  This  is  not  a  critical  history.  It  is  a  popular 
recountal.  We  will  take  advantage  of  the  doubt  as  to  time. 
We  will  range  ourselves  with  those  authorities  which  hold  that 
Elizabeth  Zane's  gunpowder  exploit  and  Sam.  McCullough's 
leap  for  life  occurred  in  the  siege  of  1777.  It  would  be  inter 
esting  to  relate  this  historical  dispute.  Both  sides  rest  their 
argument  on  the  sworn  testimony  of  eye-witnesses.  Either 
account,  taken  by  itself  and  judged  by  the  canons  of  historical 
criticism,  would  appear  unimpeachable.  Yet  they  are  abso 
lutely  contradictory.  .  They  differ  not  only  as  to  time,  but  as 
to  the  actors  themselves,  and  as  to  the  transaction  itself. 

One  woman,  who  was  an  eye-witness,  swears  that  she  saw 
the  gunpowder  exploit  performed  by  Mollie  Clark,  in  1782,  that 
she  herself  handed  out  the  gunpowder,  that  the  supply  had  run 
short,  not  at  the  fort,  but  at  Colonel  Zane's  cabin  outside  the 
stockade,  and  that  Elizabeth  Zane  was  not  present  at  the  siege 
at  all.  On  the  other  hand,  the  first  published  accounts  of  the 
affair  were  prepared  by  scrupulously  careful  writers  who 
obtained  their  whole  information  from  the  people  of  Wheeling, 
who  were  participants  in  the  siege.  They  say  the  exploit  was 
performed  at  the  first  siege,  and  relate  it  as  we  give  it  herein. 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS.  383 

This  dispute  shows  how  apt  eye-witnesses  are,  after  a  shorter 
or  longer  lapse  of  time,  to  exaggerate,  to  pervert,  to  wholly 
€hange  the  facts,  no  matter  how  honest  their  intentions.  It 
illustrates  the  slenderness  of  so  much  of  what  is  called  histor 
ical  evidence.  It  warns  us  to  be  cautious  as  to  how  we  receive 
accounts  of  marvelous  and  unusual  occurrences,  and  explains 
in  a  very  practical  way  the  growth  of  legends  and  histor 
ical  myths. 

During  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day,  the  supply  of  gun 
powder  was  perceived  to  be  dangerously  small.  Colonel  Zane, 
the  founder  of  Wheeling,  remembered  that  in  his  cabin,  sixty 
yards  from  the  fort,  was  a  full  keg  of  powder.  He  called  the 
men  about  him,  told  them  the  facts,  and  asked  for  volunteers  to 
procure  the  keg  of  powder.  Several  brave  fellows  offered,  but 
at  this  point,  Elizabeth  Zane,  a  handsome  and  vivacious  girl, 
stepped  forward. 

She  was  a  younger  sister  of  the  colonel,  and  had  just  come 
from  Philadelphia,  where  she  had  been  educated  in  the  best 
school  for  young  ladies  in  the  city.  Though  wholly  unfamiliar 
with  border  warfare,  she  had  thrown  herself  into  the  work  of 
casting  bullets,  making  cartridges,  and  loading  rifles,  with  the 
.greatest  zeal  and  courage.  Now  she  bounded  forward  and 
imperiously  announced,  "  No  one  shall  go  but  myself !"  The 
men  turned  quickly  as  her  clear  voice  rang  out  in  the  air.  Her 
flashing  eyes  and  mounting  color  added  emphasis  to  the  bold 
declaration.  At  first,  her  offer  was  peremptorily  refused,  but  the 
high-spirited  girl  was  not  to  be  denied.  She  argued  that  the 
enfeebled  garrison  could  better  spare  her  than  any  of  the  men. 

In  a  moment  she  opened  the  heavy  gate,  and  flew  towards 
the  cabin.  The  Indians  saw  her  and  watched  her  movements. 
When  she  came  out  of  the  building,  and,  with  the  keg  of  pow 
der  in  her  arms,  sped  with  the  fleetness  of  a  fawn  toward  the 
fort,  they  sent  heavy  volleys  of  bullets  after  her,  but  not  a  ball 
touched  the  person  of  the  daring  girl.  The  gates  were  opened. 
She  entered  safely  with  her  prize.  A  loud  cheer  welcomed  her, 


384  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

/ 

and  every  man,  inspired  by  her  heroism,  and  thrilled  with  her 
loveliness,  resolved  to  repulse  the  foe  or  die  in  the  effort.  The 
young  heroine  lived  to  a  ripe  age,  becoming  the  founder  of 
Zanesville,  Ohio,  it  is  said.  "The  story  of  Elizabeth  Zane," 
says  Lossing,  "ought  to  be  perpetuated  in  marble  and  preserved 
in  the  Valhalla  of  our  Revolutionary  heroes." 

During  the  night  the  savages  kept  up  their  assaults  with 
unwearied  vigor.  About  midnight  they  began  to  fire  the  houses 
of  Wheeling,  one  after  another.  Meanwhile,  relief  was  coming 
from  two  directions.  How  news  flies  so  rapidly  in  a  wilderness 
where  there  are  neither  telegraphs,  railroads,  mails,  stage  coaches, 
couriers,  nor  travelers,  is  a  mystery  impossible  to  explain.  How 
ever  it  may  be,  Major  Sam.  McCullough,  at  the  head  of  forty 
mounted  men,  was  on  his  way  from  the  Short  Creek  settlement, 
and  Colonel  Swearinger,  with  fourteen  men,  was  coming  down 
the  river  in  a  boat  from  Halliday's  fort.  About  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning  McCullough's  men  dashed  through  the  burning  vil 
lage  and  up  to  the  fort.  McCullough  himself  reined  in,  refusing 
to  go  in  till  all  of  his  men  had  entered.  The  Indians  made  a 
rush  to  intercept  the  relief  party,  but  were  too  late  for  any  one 
except  McCullough.  He  was  left  outside  as  the  gates  closed. 
They  could  have  killed  him,  but  desired  to  take  him  alive  and 
save  him  for  torture,  to  avenge  themselves  for  the  many  injuries 
he  had  inflicted  on  them.  McCullough,  the  hero  of  many  a  close 
encounter,  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  dashed  along  the  hillside, 
toward  Van  Meter's  block-house,  several  miles  away.  He  had 
reached  the  top  of  Wheeling  Hill,  fairly  distancing  his  pursuers, 
when  a  body  of  Indians  appeared  just  ahead  of  him,  moving 
rapidly  to  surround  him. 

A  glance  taught  him  the  peril  of  the  situation.  On  one  side 
was  a  steep  precipice ;  on  the  others  were  his  foes.  He  hesi 
tated  not  an  instant,  but  curved  his  horse  abruptly  toward  the 
precipice,  and,  with  a  leap  disappeared  from  the  view  of  his 
astounded  pursuers.  The  hill  was  very  high  and .  exceedingly 
abrupt  in  its  declivity.  The  Indians  ran  to  the  brink,  expect- 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS.  385 

ing  to  see  his  mangled  corpse  on  the  rocks  below.  Instead  of 
this,  they  saw  him  firmly  seated  in  his  saddle,  galloping  rapidly 
around  a  point  of  rocks  safe  from  their  pursuit. 

Swearinger's  party,  coming  down  the  dark  and  foggy  river, 
now  running  ashore,  now  far  out  in  mid-stream,  out  of  sight  of 
land,  half  rowing,  half  drifting,  were  apprehensive  lest  they 
should  pass  Wheeling  in  the  pitchy  darkness.  Their  fears  were 
groundless.  Long  before  they  reached  the  place,  a  red  and 
angry  glare  lit  up  the  black  canopy  of  clouds  which  overhung 
the  unfortunate  settlement. 

It  was  dawn  before  they  reached  their  destination.  Half- 
stifled  by  the  smoke  from  the  ruined  cabins,  they  crawled  up  to 
the  fort,  and  entered.  Not  an  Indian  was  visible.  A  furious 
attack  had  been  repulsed  and  was  followed  by  an  unusual  still 
ness.  Two  bold  scouts  went  out  to  reconnoiter.  They  returned 
without  discovering  the  whereabouts  of  the  foe.  Then  Colonel 
Zane  took  twenty  men  and  explored  the  field  and  forest  where 
the  savages  had  so  lately  encamped.  They  were  gone.  Dis 
couraged  by  the  re-enforcement  of  McCullough's  men,  they  had 
abandoned  the  siege,  after  burning  the  village  and  killing  three 
hundred  cattle.  , 

A  day  passed.  No  signs  of  Indians  were  visible.  The  set 
tlers  ventured  out  of  the  fort  to  the  desolate  site  of  their  fron 
tier  homes.  Many  a  family  had  lost  not  only  its  home,  but  the 
strong  right  arm  of  the  husband  and  father,  which  could  have 
replaced  the  home.  Place  and  prospect  were  to  them  but  a 
vista  of  dreariness.  With  many  a  stifled  sigh  the  survivors 
took  up  again  the  burden  of  life.  In  a  day  or  two  Captain 
Foreman  arrived  with  more  re-enforcements  from  Hampshire. 
For  several  weeks  the  people  at  Wheeling  kept  on  their  guard. 
That  the  Indians  had  returned  to  their  towns  in  the  west  seemed 
possible. 

On  September  26th  a  cloud  of  smoke  seemed  to  be  rising 
from  the  region  of  Tomlinson's  place,  twelve  miles  below  Wheel 
ing.  To  ascertain  the  facts  and  lend  assistance  if  necessary, 


386  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Foreman  took  a  strong  party  and  started  in  the  direction  of  the 
smoke.  Grave  Creek,  as  the  place  was  called,  was  found  all 
safe.  The  men  remained  over  night  and  commenced  their 
return  trip. 

Foreman,  a  thick-headed  fellow,  inexperienced  in  Indian  fight 
ing,  indulged  in  fatal  recklessness.  He  would  build  large  fires 
at  night,  and  went  to  sleep  right  by  them.  In  his  company  was 
a  weather-beaten  scout,  named  Lynn.  His  crafty  eye  took  in  the 
danger  of  this  proceeding,  and  after  a  caution  to  Foreman,  he 
and  two  or  three  of  his  fellows  withdrew  to  a  dark  spot  in 
the  forest  for  their  night's  repose.  About  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  a  faint  plashing  could  be  heard  by  a  practiced  ear. 
It  came  from  the  other  side  of  the  river.  It  was  too  regular 
and  rythmical  to  be  occasioned  by  the  dash  of  the  current  on 
a  hidden  rock,  or  the  sportive  leapings  of  the  fish  from  the 
dark  depths.  Lynn  awoke.  He  listened.  He  made  his  way 
over  to  Foreman,  roused  him,  and  told  him  that  he  believed  that 
Indians  had  seen  their  camp-fire,  and  were  embarking  from  the 
opposite  shore  of  the  river  on  rafts,  for  an  attack.  Foreman 
repulsed  him  rudely,  and  turning  over  went  to  sleep.  A  shade 
fell  on  the  honest  face  of  the  scout.  He  withdrew  again  into 
the  forest.  But  he  remained  wide  awake.  He  stood  behind  a 
tree,  his  finger  on  the  trigger  of  his  musket.  He  watched. 

But  the  enemy,  if  present,  gave  no  indications  of  it.  With 
the  morning  came  the  order  for  marching.  There  were  two 
routes.  One  along  the  creek  bottom,  the  other  along  a  ridge  of 
hills.  Lynn  urged  the  latter,  as  being  safer  from  ambuscade, 
and  a  different  way  from  the  one  by  which  they  came.  Whom 
the  gods  wish  to  destroy,  they  first  make  mad.  Foreman  was 
mad.  He  scoffed  at  the  rusty-looking  scout.  The  fatal  com 
mand  was  given  to  take  the  lower  route. 

Lynn  and  a  half  dozen  companions  left  the  company  to 
return  by  the  ridge.  It  was  well.  As  Foreman's  party  pro 
ceeded  the  men  discovered  some  Indian  trinkets  on  the  ground. 
A  man  in  advance  picked  them  up.  Such  a  find  is  unusual. 


THE  BLOODY  YEAR  OF  THE  THREE  SEVENS.  387 

The  backwoodsman  is,  after  all,  a  man.  He  has  curiosity.  But 
his  life  is  barren.  Of  the  splendors  of  a  great  city,  with  its 
magnificent  store  windows,  filled  with  dazzling  and  brilliant  dis 
plays,  he  has  no  conception.  A  few  beads  are  to  him  an  object 
of  wonder.  To  find  them  in  the  woods  is  a  miracle.  The  men 
crowded  eagerly  around  the  finder  of  the  treasure.  The  big, 
rough  fellows,  brave  as  lions,  behaved  like  children.  They 
jostled  and  crowded  each  other  to  get  a  better  sight  of  the  toy. 
They  were  intently  absorbed.  Every  eye  was  on  the  treasure. 
Had  one  of  them  looked  around  he  would  have  seen  that  they 
were  surrounded  by  Indians. 

There  was  a  fearful  explosion.  The  unseen  circle  of  enemies 
had  fired.  Twenty-one  white  men  fell  dead  on  the  spot.  The 
rest  would  have  fallen  at  the  second  fire.  But  suddenly  there 
were  heard  terrific  yells  from  the  top  of  the  hill.  The  Indians 
turned  to  listen.  It  seemed  as  if  a  whole  army  was  coming. 
The  Indians  broke  and  ran ;  the  faster  the  better.  In  a  moment 
they  were  gone.  The  yslls  did  not  come  from  an  army.  They 
came  from  Lynn  and  his  companions.  The  remainder  of  Fore 
man's  party  was  saved.  He,  himself,  had  paid  the  penalty  for 
his  obstinacy.  But  it  was  small  recompense  for  the  poor  fel 
lows  lying  cold  in  death. 


388  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  CONFLICT   IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY. 


changes  have  been  mirrored  in  the  blue 
Ohio  during  the  last  hundred  years  !  The 
waters  of  the  river  itself  have  not  been  more 
changing  than  the  landscape.  This  is  the  true 
age  of  magic.  Who  'is  there  that  does  not  see 
that  the  Lamp  of  Civilization  far  surpasses  the 
dull  luminary  of  one  Aladdin?  Not  a  single 
palace,  but  whole  cities  have  sprung  into  exist 
ence,  as  it  were,  in  a  single  night.  Instead  of  transforming 
towns  into  lakes,  and  their  inhabitants  into  blue,  green,  and  yel 
low  fish,  by  our  -magic,  swamps  and  reedy  lakes  are  transformed 
into  cities,  and  in  the  place  of  innumerable  suckers,  cats,  and 
minnows,  behold  thronging  populations  of  men.  Unnumbered 
generations  of  wide-eyed  children  have  wondered  at  the 
enchanted  horse,  which,  by  the  turning  of  a  peg,  in  a  single 
day  transported  the  Prince  of  Persia  and  his  lady  love  to  his 
distant  dominions.  But  we  have  enchanted  horses  which  travel 
at  the  rate  of  a  mile  a  minute,  able  to  carry,  not  merely  two 
persons,  but  whole  populations.  Yet  we  do  not  wonder.  The 
author  of  the  "Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments"  thought  his 
fancy  had  transcended  the  bounds  of  all  that  was  possible.  But 
the  creations  of  his  imagination  are  tame  and  dull  beside  the 
marvelous  handiwork  of  the  real  Genie,  the  Spirit  of  Civilization. 
It  is  still  possible  to  imagine  the  past.  We  can  conjure  up 
faint  visions  of  the  majestic  river  rolling  on  in  everlasting 
solitude.  The  winding  shores  lie  wrapped  in  the  mantle  of  per- 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  389 

ennial  forests.     Not  a  sound  is  heard  above  the  muffled  roar 
of  the  flood. 

It  is  evening.  At  points  where  the  shore  slopes  gradually 
to  the  water,  stand  shadowy  herds  of  mild-eyed  deer,  now 
drinking  from  the  cooling  current,  now  lifting  their  graceful 
necks,  and  watching  with  timid  anxiety  some  spot  along  the 
shore,  from  which  had  come  the  suspicious  sound  of  rustling 
leaves.  Lying  hid  in  the  thicket  is  a  phantom  canoe.  A  dusky 
form  steals  cautiously  through  the  underbrush  toward  the  gentle 
denizens  of  the  forest.  He  obtains  a  view  of  the  lovely  sight, 
His  eye  flashes,  his  nostril  quivers,  but  not  with  admiration  of 
the  beautiful. 

There  is  a  whirring  sound,  as  a  light  shaft  whistles  through 
the  air.  The  startled  deer  leap  toward  the  shadow  of  the  for 
est.  Too  late.  The  arrow-head  is  buried  in  the  heart  of  a 
noble  buck.  His  leap  was  unto  death.  The  crimson  tide  spurts 
forth  in  hot  jets  upon  the  brown  leaves  of  the  wild  wood.  His 
large  and  intelligent  eye  is  slowly  covered  with  a  film  which 
shuts  out  forever  the  view  of  his  forest  home.  His  slender  form 
stiffens.  The  head  is  partially  lifted,  as  if  to  look  with  mild 
reproachfulness  upon  the  enemy  whom  he  had  never  harmed. 
Then  it  sinks  back  upon  the  spreading  antlers.  The  agony 
is  ended. 

The  dim  picture  quickly  fades.  Where  stood  the  shadowy 
outlines  of  the  forest,  now  stately  buildings  and  the  stony 
expanse  of  a  great  city's  public  landing,  covered  with  vast  piles 
of  merchandise,  force  themselves  upon  the  vision.  Along  the 
shore  stretches  a  mile  of  stately  steamers.  From  some  just 
landed,  streams  of  busy  passengers  pour  forth  over  the  wharf- 
boat.  Others  are  about  to  depart.  Dozens  of  drays  thunder 
down  the  stony  slope  with  freight  for  the  out-going  vessels. 
Gangs  of  deck-hands  are  hurriedly  carrying  aboard  the  last  of 
the  cargo.  The  voice  of  the  master  is  heard  above  the  din, 
incessantly  urging  the  hands  to  greater  exertions,  now  cursing 
them  for  clumsiness  or  abusing  them  for  laziness,  now  threat- 


390  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ening  them  with  discharge  and  no  pay,  now  promising  various 
glittering  rewards  for  more  speed. 

At  last  the  cargo  is  loaded.  The  last  barrel  is  rolled  aboard. 
The  last  consignment  of  brooms  and  wooden  buckets  is  stowed 
away.  The  smoke,  which  has  been  rising,  from  the  steamer's 
chimneys  in  thin,  idle  currents,  now  rushes  upward  in  black 
Tolumes.  The  gangway  is  hauled  aboard,  the  hawser  cast  off. 
There  is  a  hasty  jingling  of  various  signal  bells.  A  heavy  puff 
from  the  engines,  and  the  roaring  swash  of  the  paddle-wheels  is 
heard  as  the  steamer  slowly  draws  off  from  the  dock. 

If  we  turn  from  the  din  and  confusion  of  the  landing,  we 
hear  above  us  the  roar  of  the  Queen  City.  Miles  upon  miles 
of  bowldered  streets  stretch  on  between  tall  rows  of  gloomy 
buildings.  The  air  is  heavy  with  the  smell  of  groceries,  and 
tremulous  with  the  clangor  of  metropolitan  activity.  The  street 
lamps  are  being  lighted,  and  as  we  look  up  the  long  avenue 
their  yellow  flames  on  either  side  extend  in  a  narrowing  vista, 
until,  far  up  the  hill,  the  walls  of  the  street  seem  to  come 
together. 

How  came  the  change?  Whence  is  the  marvelous  trans 
formation  ?  Few  of  us  think  of  it.  The  cities  are  here — it  is 
enough.  What  care  we  for  the  struggles  of  our  fathers  ?  No 
doubt  they  were  gentlemen,  loving  quiet,  and,  following  their 
tastes,  they  left  the  settled  towns  and  cities  of  the  east  to  build 
rude  homes  in  the  peaceful  valley  of  the  Ohio.  Unmolested 
by  any  disturber,  we  think  they  quietly  plowed  the  glebe, 
harvested  crops,  reared  their  children,  and  were  gathered  to 
their  graves. 

What  a  mistake !  The  peace  we  now  enjoy  is  the  offspring 
of  war.  Our  fathers  were  not  peaceful,  timid  men.  They 
were  bold  adventurers.  They  were  scouts.  They  were  Indian 
fighters.  The  Ohio  valley  was  won  from  the  savages  only  after 
the  longest,  the  bloodiest  struggle  on  record.  It  was  a  war 
which  raged  without  perceptible  intermission  from  the  breaking 
out  of  Lord  Dunmore's  war,  in  1774,  to  the  battle  of  Fallen 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  391 

Timbers,  in  1794,  a  period  of  twenty  years.  During  that  time 
the  pioneers  of  the  magnificent  valley  knew  no  peace.  The 
battles  of  the  Revolution  were  fought  and  won,  but  in  the 
struggle  with  the  savages  there  was  no  victory  for  the  brave 
colonists.  The  independence  of  the  New  Republic  was  achieved 
by  force  of  arms  in  spite  of  the  greatest  military  nation  on 
earth,  but  against  the  redskins  of  the  Ohio  the  arms  of  the 
colonies  prevailed  not. 

Peace  was  made  with  England,  but  with  her  Indian  allies 
no  armistice  took  place.  Treaties  were  concluded  with  every 
European  government,  but  the  outraged  red  man  still  shook  ' 
aloft  the  gory  tomahawk.  Years  rolled  by.  Expedition  after 
expedition  was  sent  against  the  Indians  of  the  west,  only  to 
end  in  rout  and  massacre.  Children  grew  to  be  men  and  women, 
middle-aged  men  and  women  grew  gray  in  the  ceaseless  conflict, 
yet  they  fought  with  all  the  zeal  of  the  bygone  years. 

The  prize  was  worth  the  struggle,  and  the  combatants  knew 
it.  The  region  of  Ohio,  Indiana,  Illinois,  Kentucky,  and  Ten 
nessee  is  the  finest  part  of  the  American  continent.  The 
Indians  of  the  west  for  unnumbered  generations  knew  it  as  the 
best  hunting-ground  between  the  oceans.  The  white  settlers 
saw  in  it  a  seat  of  empire  for  their  posterity,  unequaled  in 
Europe  or  America.  Midway  between  the  extremes  of  temper 
ature,  with  mild  winters  and  cool  summers,  with  the  richest  soil, 
moderate  rain-fall,  a  rolling  surface,  and  abundant  forests,  it  is 
evident  at  this  day  that  the  pioneers  did  not  overestimate  the 
prospect.  There  is  hardly  any  limit  to  the  population  which 
the  region  is  capable  of  sustaining.  Delightful  for  residence,  it 
is  also  the  natural  home  of  trade,  agriculture,  and  manufacture. 

As  a  nursery  of  great  men,  the  Ohio  valley  has  long  since 
distanced  any  other  portion  of  the  country.  Henry  Clay,  Abra 
ham  Lincoln,  Ulysses  S.  Grant,  Joseph  E.  McDonald,  John  Sher 
man,  James  A.  Garfield,  Rutherford  B.  Hayes,  Hugh  McCulloch, 
Robert  G.  Ingersoll,  Oliver  P.  Morton,  Stephen  A.  Douglas,. 
Thomas  A.  Henaricks,  Allen  G.  Thurman,  Benjamin  Harrison,. 


392  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Matthew  Simpson,  E.  S.  Ames,  Tom  Corwin,  Thomas  Marshall, 
George  D.  Prentice,  Robert  Dale  Owen,  Henry  Ward  Beecher, 
William  T.  Sherman,  Henry  Bascom,  A.  E.  Burnsides,  Stonewall 
Jackson — these  are  the  men  whom  the  valley  of  the  Ohio  has 
already  furnished  to  the  Republic.  Where  can  be  found  any 
other  portion  of  the  country,  which,  within  less  than  a  hundred 
years  after  the  first  settlers  found  it  a  silent  wilderness,  has 
given  to  the  world  such  a  constellation  of  statesmen,  orators, 
military  commanders,  and  writers  ?  , 

The  Ohio  valley  then  was  won  by  war,  by  twenty  years  of 
conflict.  Reserving  for  separate  chapters  the  stories  of  the  dif 
ferent  expeditions  and  the  most  famous  Indian  fighters,  in  this 
chapter  we  will  collect  the  crumbs  which  fall  from  the  table  of 
the  feast. 

The  greater  part  of  the  romantic  stories  of  Indian  adventures 
have  been  buried  with  the  daring  actors  in  oblivion.  Besides, 
the  few  tales  which  happened  to  be  preserved  in  manuscript  or 
print,  there  yet  linger  in  certain  old  families  shadowy  traditions 
of  their  ancestors'  struggles  and  adventures.  Gray-haired  men 
are  yet  to  be  found  in  warm  chimney  corners,  who  can  repeat 
many  romantic  stories  told  them  by  their  mothers.  But  in  an 
other  generation  these  dim  traditions  will  be  gone,  as  will  be  the 
men  who  tell  them.  Even  with  a  recountal  of  the  feats  of  which 
the  stories  have  been  preserved,  many  volumes  could  be  filled. 
Here  we  can  only  outline  some  representative  deeds  and  dangers. 

THE  ESCAPE  OF  McCONNEL. 

People  will  eat.  Alexander  McConnel,  of  Lexington,  Ken 
tucky,  though  no  philosopher,  had  observed  this.  So  it  came 
to  pass  that  he  went  hunting  one  spring  morning  in  1780,  and 
killed  a  fine  deer.  It  was  necessary  to  procure  a  horse  to  trans 
port  the  game.  Five  Indians  happened  to  find  the  fallen  buck, 
understood  the  situation,  and,  from  a  neighboring  thicket  pre 
pared  a  reception  for  the  hunter.  Presently  Mc€onnel,  care 
less  of  danger  and  chuckling  over  his  good  luck,  appeared  on 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  393 

his   horse.      The   Indians   fired,  killed  the   horse,  but  not  the 
rider,  and  took  the  latter  captive. 

His  captors  turned  out  to  be  jolly  fellows,  in  spite  of  the  deep 
melancholy  which  is  supposed  to  haunt  the  heart  of  the  savage. 
They  let  McConnel  have  his  gun,  and  he  chimed  in  with  the 
fun  by  killing  game  for  them  with  fancy  shots.  About  the 
fourth  evening  the  travelers  encamped  on  the  shore  of  the  Ohio. 
McConnel  concluded  the  fun  had  gone  far  enough.  He  resolved 
to  escape  before  they  crossed  the  river.  He  complained  that 
the  cords  with  which  they  tied  him  at  night  were  painful. 
Being  polite  gentlemen,  they  tied  him  loosely,  passed  the  ends 
of  the  buffalo  tug  around  their  own  bodies,  and  went  to  sleep. 
McConnel  lay  quiet  till  midnight. 

Then  he  made  his  right  hand  as  small  as  possible,  and  tried 
to  draw  it  out  of  the  loop.  Impossible !  He  tried  the  left  hand 
with  the  same  result.  He  attempted  to  reach  the  knot  with  his 
mouth.  It  could  not  be  done.  Heretofore  he  had  borne  his 
light  captivity  with  considerable  resignation.  Now  he  became 
frantic.  His  veins  grew  swollen  with  rage.  He  strained  and 
pulled  with  the  energy  of  despair.  Useless !  He  thought  of 
his  home,  of  perpetual  captivity,  of  a  death  by  torture,  of 
suicide. 

As  he  lay  almost  bursting  with  fury,  something  on  the 
ground,  glittering  in  the  firelight,  caught  his  eye.  He  studied 
it  attentively.  At  last  he  made  it  out.  It  was  a  knife.  How 
could  he  reach  it?  He  could  not  move  his  hands  two  inches 
without  waking  his  sleeping  guards.  It  lay  nearly  two  yards 
from  his  feet.  He  commenced  to  slowly  move  his  body  toward 
the  foot  of  his  rude  pallet,  under  the  cover  of  buffalo  skin.  As 
this  singular  movement  continued,  he  gradually  drew  his  hands 
upward,  leaving  them  in  the  same  relative  position.  Now  they 
were  over  his  face,  now  above  his  head ;  now  stretched  at  full 
length  toward  the  head  of  the  bed.  His  head  was  covered  with 
the  buffalo  robe.  It  could  no  longer  be  lifted.  Unable  to  see 
the  knife  he  sought  it  with  his  foot.  He  felt  everywhere  for 


394  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

it.  He  could  not  find  it.  With  his  great  toe  he  made  a  mark 
in  the  ground.  Then  he  drew  himself  up.  He  raised  his  head. 
The  knife  was  there.  The  mark  made  by  his  toe  was  eleven 
inches  this  side  of  it.  Eleven  inches  between  liberty  and  a 
death  by  torture  ! 

McConnel  thought.  In  a  little  while  he  commenced  moving 
his  head  from  side  to  side.  At  each  movement  he  seized  the 
edge  of  the  buffalo  skin  in  his  teeth  and  dragged  it  a  little. 
Presently  the  skin  was  partially  pulled  off  the  savage  on  the 
right.  He  got  cold.  He  turned  over  in  his  sleep  to  warm  his 
cold  side.  This  threw  him  much  nearer  McConnel.  But  it 
also  gave  considerable  play  to  the  prisoner's  hands.  Again 
the  latter  cautiously  wriggled  toward  the  foot.  Again  he 
extended  his  hands  above  his  head.  Again  the  foot  sought 
for  the  precious  knife. 

It  was  reached,  grasped  firmly  between  the  toes,  and  drawn 
upward.  In  a  moment  McConnel  had  it  in  his  hand  and  sev 
ered  his  bonds.  He  rose.  Instead  of  fleeing,  he  deliberately 
sat  down  by  the  fire.  Strange  conduct  for  a  fugitive  !  Too 
well  he  knew  that  to  fly  without  killing  his  captors  meant  cer 
tain  pursuit  and  recapture.  The  trail  he  would  leave  would  be 
as  plain  to  their  eyes  as  a  plow  furrow.  He  might  succeed  in 
cutting  the  throats  of  one  or  two.  But  the  death  rattle  must 
rouse  the  rest. 

At  last  he  took  all  but  two  of  the  guns  of  the  savages  and 
hid  them  in  the  forest.  Of  the  two  he  carefully  examined  the 
loads.  They  appeared  satisfactory,  for  he  noiselessly  laid  the 
barrels  across  a  log,  and  aimed  each  at  a  savage.  The  flicker 
ing  light  of  the  camp  fire  revealed  his  calm  but  determined  face. 
Bang!  Bang!  The  guns  were  fired  almost  simultaneously,  kill 
ing  two  of  the  savages  outright.  At  the  report  the  other  three 
sprang  to  their  feet.  McConnel  rushed  instantly  to  the  spot 
where  he  had  hid  the  guns.  As  his  enemies  bounded  towards 
him,  he  fired  again.  The  ball  passed  through  the  body  of  the 
foremost  Indian  and  wounded  the  one  behind  him.  The  fifth 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.          395 

and  last  savage  instantly  fled.  McConnel  clubbed  the  wounded 
brave,  shouldered  his  gun.  and  made  his  way  home  in  safety. 
The  surviving  Indian  paused  not  till  he  reached  his  people. 
Among  them  was  a  white  captive,  Mrs.  Duulap.  Afterward 
she  escaped,  and  told  McConnel  of  this  Indian's  account  of  the 
affair  to  his  people.  He  related  that  he  and  his  companions  had 
captured  a  fine  young  hunter  at  Lexington,  and  had  brought  him 
as  far  as  the  Ohio ;  that,  while  there  encamped,  a  large  party  of 
white  men  had  fallen  upon  them  in  the  night,  and  killed  all  his 
companions,  together  with  the  defenseless  prisoner,  who  lay 
bound  hand  and  foot,  unable  either  to  escape  or  resist. 

A  RACE  FOR  LIFE. 

One  July  evening  in  1781,  as  the  tired  harvesters  of  what 
is  Hardin  County,  Kentucky,  were  trudging  to  their  cabins,  a 
war  party  of  Indians  burst  into  the  settlement  with  wild  yells, 
murdered  no  less  than  twelve  persons,  and  withdrew  as  swiftly 
as  they  came.  The  stricken  pioneers  started  in  pursuit.  In 
their  party  was  Peter  Kennedy,  a  young  Indian  fighter,  known 
as  the  swiftest  runner  in  Kentucky.  This  talent  caused  him  to 
be  looked  on  as  -a  very  brilliant  fellow.  In  the  fury  of  pursuit 
the  settlers  ran  into  an  ambuscade.  Better  had  it  been  for  the 
anxious  women  and  children,  left  behind  in  the  cabins,  if  the 
brave  ones  had  never  gone  from  them.  The  savages  fired  from 
ambush,  killing  every  white  except  *  Kennedy.  He  jumped 
behind  a  tree.  As  an  Indian  ran  at  him  with  uplifted  toma 
hawk,  the  runner  fired,  killed  the  savage,  and  ran.  Nine  rifles 
were  discharged.  A  ball  in  his  leg  disabled  him.  It  also  cost 
him  two  years'  captivity  in  the  wigwams  along  the  Wabash  River 
in  Indiana. 

The  time  came  at  last  when  his  wound  healed  and  his  cap 
tors  were  off  their  guard.  He  made  his  w^y  to  the  Ohio  River, 
built  a  raft,  and  crossed  it.  He  felt  pret|ty  safe.  A  fat  deer 
was  shot  by  him,  and,  building  a  fire,  he  (proceeded  to  roast  a 
delicious  haunch  of  venison.  The  savory  iroast  was  just  done, 


396  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

and  the  hungry  man  was  putting  the  first  rare  morsel  to  his 
lips,  when  a  rifle  was  fired  from  the  thicket,  and  Kennedy  felt  a 
sharp  sting  on  his  leg.  Hurt,  but  not  disabled,  he  seized  his  gun 
and  started  at  the  top  of  his  speed  for  the  mountains.  Thirty 
miles  away  was  Gooden's  Station.  That  point  he  must  make. 

The  Indians  started  in  hot  pursuit.  Now  Kennedy  sum 
moned  to  his  aid  all  the  skill  and  endurance  which  had  won  his 
fame  as  a  runner.  Up-hill,  down-hill,  through  underbrush,  over 
fallen  logs,  across  stony  ground,  and  in  the  midst  of  quagmires, 
he  sped  like  an  arrow.  He  gained  on  his  pursuers.  At  the 
end  of  five  miles  he  was  out  of  gun-shot.  But  still  they  fol 
lowed.  At  the  end  of  ten  miles  the  perspiration  streamed  from 
his  brow.  His  face  and  neck  were  swollen  till  the  blood  seemed 
ready  to  burst  forth.  Still  he  ran  on  without  the  least  abate 
ment  of  speed.  Fifteen  miles  were  accomplished.  He  found 
himself  at  the  summit  of  a  ridge  of  hills,  near  Rolling  Fort. 
He  paused  for  a  moment.  The  pursuers  were  no  longer  in 
sight.  He  leaned  against  a  tree  for  a  whole  minute.  This 
seemed  to  refresh  him  immensely. 

With  redoubled  speed  he  .bounded  down  the  rugged  hillside, 
leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  momentarily  planting  his  flying  feet 
on  spots  which  seemed  to  furnish  no  foothold.  A  vast  plain 
was  before  him.  He  was  a  mile  from  the  ridge  before  he  heard 
the  yells  of  his  pursuers.  He  looked  over  his  shoulder.  They 
had  paused  on  the  summit.  At  the  moment  Kennedy  saw  the 
Indians  they  caught  sight  of  him.  Far  away  on  the  hill-top  he 
saw  their  gestures  of  rage  outlined  against  the  sky.  Suddenly 
they  leaped  down  the  slope  as  he  had  done. 

Kennedy  redoubled  his  exertions.  Mile  after  mile  was 
accomplished.  Hour  after  hour  he  maintained  his  terrific  speed. 
At  times  he  could  see  his  pursuers  crossing  the  open  country 
two  miles  behind  him.  Once,  losing  sight  of  them,  he  thought 
the  pursuit  was  abandoned.  He  threw  himself  on  the  ground. 
His  limbs  trembled  violently.  His  chest  heaved  up  and  down 
in  convulsive  respiration.  In  a  moment  more  stupor  would 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO   VALLEY.  397 

have  seized  him.  Just  then  the  wind  bore  to  his  ears  a  faint 
yell.  They  were  .still  after  him,  only  much  nearer.  He  had 
not  been  able  for  an  hour  to  hear  their  voices. 

Once  more  he  started.  The  speed  was  no  longer  so  great. 
His  gate  was  stumbling  and  irregular.  Twice  he  fell  headlong 
over  trifling  obstacles.  But  he  was  nearing  his  goal.  Twenty- 
five  miles  were  completed.  Kennedy  again  lost  sight  and  sound 
of  his  pursuers.  Twenty-six  miles — they  were  hopelessly  in 
the  rear.  Twenty-seven  miles — the  flaming  disk  of  the  after 
noon  sun  sank  behind  the  tree-tops.  Twenty-eight  miles — Ken 
nedy  felt  he  had  won  the  race.  Thirty  miles — and  he  sank 
exhausted,  but  victorious,  on  the  floor  of  the  fort.  He  gasped 
out  an  explanation.  A  party  was  organized.  Almost  within 
gunshot  of  the  fort  lay  the  savages.  When  discovered,  they 
tried  to  run.  But  their  strength  was  exhausted.  They  had 
run  their  race  only  to  meet  death  at  the  end. 

It  was  several  weeks  before  Kennedy  recovered  from 
the  effects  of  his  fearful  exertions.  His  race  is  without  parallel 
in  frontier  chronicles. 

A  FIGHT  IN  A  FOG. 

Bryant's  Station  was  a  fort.  It  was  on  the  bank  of  the 
Elkhorn  Creek,  between  Lexington  and  Maysville,  Kentucky. 
Being  exposed  and  liable  to  frequent  attack,  it  was  strongly 
built,  containing  forty  cabins,  in  parallel  rows,  connected  by 
heavy  palisades.  From  this  shelter  no  man  dared  to  venture 
alone.  The  garrison  of  fifty  men  required  food.  But  the  hunt 
ing  parties  never  went  out  with  less  than  twenty  men. 

It  was  in  May,  1781,  that  such  a  party  sallied  forth,  under 
command  of  William  Bryant.  The  men  picked  their  way 
cautiously  through  the  overhanging  branches  of  the  forest.  No 
enemy  was  seen.  A  ravine,  which  had  been  the  site  of  many 
a  bloody  ambuscade,  was  passed  in  peace.  What  reason  was 
there  for  further  caution  ?  Why  not  divide  the  party,  sweep  a 
large  tract  of  country,  and,  gather  a  heavy  supply  of  game 


398  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

while  they  had  the  opportunity?  Ten  men,  under  James 
Hogan,  took  the  north  bank  of  the  creek  and  Bryant  the  south 
bank.  They  were  to  meet  and  join  camps  at  night-fall.  Hogan's 
men  were  proceeding  on  their  way,  when  they  were  startled  by 
a  loud  cry  of  "  Stop  !"  in  good  English.  In  their  rear  a  party 
of  Indians  was  to  be  seen  in  rapid  advance. 

The  whites  at  once  turned  loose  a  pack-horse,  put  spurs  to 
their  animals,  and  galloped  into  the  forest  at  a  break -neck  speed. 
After  a  run  of  several  miles  they  reined  in,  and  held  a  hurried 
consultation.  That  their  flight  had  been  premature  was  evident. 
The*  strength  of  the  attacking  party  was  unknown.  Bryant's 
men  might  be  in  great  peril.  To  cross  the  creek,  and  lie  in 
ambush  till  the  Indians  came  along,  learn  their  numbers,  then 
either  fight,  join  Bryant,  or  fly  to  the  fort  in  case  of  overwhelm 
ing  force,  seemed  the  best  way  to  remedy  the  mistake.  It 
was  three  hours  before  the  crunching  of  twigs  across  the  creek 
announced  the  footsteps  of  the  enemy. 

It  was  already  night.  The  starlight  revealed  an  Indian 
starting  to  cross  the  stream.  Hogan  fired.  There  was  a  yell, 
and  a  mighty  splash  of  waters.  The  bullet  had  made  its  home 
in  his  heart.  At  once  all  became  still.  After  an  hour's  wait 
ing,  the  hunters  mounted  and  made  their  way  to  the  fort. 
Bryant  and  his  little  company  were  still  out.  Long  before  day 
light,  Hogan  and  his  men,  ashamed  at  their  flight  and  anxious 
about  Bryant,  started  once  more  down  the  creek  to  join  him. 
The  morning  was  very  foggy.  Objects  were  invisible  at  a  dis 
tance  of  ten  feet. 

While  they  were  thus  on  their  way,  Bryant  met  with  a  sad 
disaster.  He  had  gone  into  camp  the  night  before  at  the 
appointed  time,  but  Hogan  came  not.  The  men  prepared  and 
ate  their  supper.  They  sat  around  the  camp  fire,  speculating 
anxiously  on  his  absence.  Usually,  these  hunting  parties  were 
jolly  crowds.  The  evenings  in  camp  were  filled  with  rough  fun 
and  jokes.  But  on  this  evening  the  men  were  in  no  humor  for 
levity.  The  horses  were  picketed  more  closely  than  usual. 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  399 

The  men  grouped  themselves  in  a  narrower  circle.  They  talked 
in  anxious  whispers.  A  dozen  times  Bryant  left  the  circle  and 
went  out  into  the  forest  to  listen  for  Hogan's  approach.  As 
many  times  he  returned  with  his  anxiety  unallayed.  It  was  far 
in  the  night  before  the  men  rolled  themselves  in  their  buffalo 
robes  for  sleep. 

The  night  passed  uneasily.  In  the  morning  the  men  rose, 
and  were  preparing  breakfast.  Just  then  the  faint  tinkle  of  a 
bell  was  heard  through  the  fog.  Every  one  listened.  In  a  few 
moments  it  was  heard  again.  This  time  Bryant  recognized  it. 
It  was  the  bell  of  Hogan's  pack-horse.  Believing  Hogan  to 
have  missed  the  camp  and  to  be  wandering  in  the  fog,  Bryant 
and  Grant  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  to  the  spot  where  the 
bell  was  still  giving  irregular  tinkles.  Just  as  they  had  about 
reached  it,  a  dozen  Indians  started  up  in  the  fog  and  fired. 
Both  men  were  wounded,  Bryant  mortally.  The  bell  was  the 
bell  from  Hogan's  pack-horse,  which  the  Indians  had  captured. 
But  instead  of  being  on  the  horse's  neck,  the  bell  was  held  by 
a  savage,  and  shaken  slightly  from  time  to  time.  Both  men 
retained  their  seats  and  managed  to  make  their  way  to  the 
fort,  where  Bryant  shortly  expired. 

The  Indians  at  once  charged  on  the  camp,  killed  some,  and 
dispersed  the  rest.  They  proceeded  to  occupy  the  camp,  and 
lounged  about  the  fire,  smoking  their  tobacco.  At  this  moment 
Hogan's  party  rode  upon  them,  unseen  in  the  fog.  The  surprise 
was  equal.  Each  side  sought  shelter,  and  a  sharp  battle  was 
fought,  lasting  half  an  hour,  at  the  end  of  which  time  the 
Indians  fled,  leaving  several  dead  behind  them.  The  camp 
trappings  of  Bryant's  party  were  found  by  Hogan  in  the  camp. 
His  suspicions  were  at  once  aroused  concerning  the  fate  of  their 
owners.  After  a  vain  search  for  them,  he  and  his  men  sadly 
returned  to  the  fort,  to  find  their  worst  apprehensions  realized. 
Bryant,  the  leader  of  the  fort,  the  man  for  whom  it  was  named, 
the  hero  of  a  hundred  fights,  was  lying  cold  in  death  amid  the 
corpses  of  the  men  who  fell  in  the  same  attack. 


400  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

A  SETTLEE'S  SELF-DEFENSE. 

Not  in  Kentucky  alone,  but  throughout  the  length  of  the 
Ohio  valley,  raged  the  conflict  with  the  red  man.  David  Mor 
gan  occupied  a  cabin  on  the  Monongahela  River,  several  miles 
from  the  nearest  neighbor.  He  was  seventy  years  of  age,  but 
still  braved  the  dangers  of  his  situation. 

One  morning  two  of  his  younger  children  went  to  plow  a 
field  a  mile  away  from  the  cabin.  Morgan  became  uneasy  from 
some  cause,  and  taking  his  trusty  rifle,  determined  to  go  to 
them.  He  found  the  boys  all  right.  Taking  a  seat  on  the  top 
rail  of  the  worm  fence,  he  was  giving  some  directions  about  the 
work,  when  he  suddenly  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  he  and 
his  children  were  not  alone.  In  the  edge  of  the  forest  he  per 
ceived  two  Indians  gliding  stealthily  and  rapidly  upon  the  boys. 
Morgan  called  to  the  latter  to  fly  to  the  house.  For  himself,  he 
determined  to  cover  their  retreat.  The  children,  having  twa 
hundred  yards  the  start,  and  being  fleet  runners,  were  soon  out 
of  reach. 

The  old  man  also  ran  with  considerable  activity  for  a  short 
distance,  but  as  his  strength  failed,  his  pursuers  gained  on  him. 
He  turned  at  bay,  to  contend  with  the  two  powerful  and  well- 
armed  savages.  The  woods  were  thin.  Morgan  planted  him 
self  behind  the  only  large  tree  in  the  locality.  His  pursuers 
instantly  sought  cover  behind  some  saplings,  but  old  Morganr 
seeing  a  little  of  the  person  of  the  nearest  savage  exposed,  fired 
with  unerring  skill  and  killed  him.  The  other  Indian  at  once 
rushed  on  Morgan,  wrhose  gun  was  of  course  empty.  The  lat 
ter  ran,  but  in  a  moment  his  pursuer,  less  than  twenty  steps 
behind  him,  fired.  By  great  fortune,  the  ball  missed  its  mark. 
Morgan  again  turned  at  bay,  clubbing  his  musket,  while  the 
Indian  raised  his  tomahawk.  Both  blows  took  effect,  the  gun 
stock  being  broken  on  the  Indian's  skull,  and  the  tomahawk, 
shattered  by  striking  the  gun-barrel,  having  cut  off  two  of 
Morgan's  fingers.  The  savage  reached  for  his  knife,  but  the 
old  man  grappled  with  him,  hurling  him  to  the  ground. 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  401 

An  awful  struggle  took  place,  but  the  youth  and  superior 
strength  of  the  Indian  availed  to  turn  Morgan.  The  savage 
planted  his  knee  on  his  opponent's  breast,  and  again  reached 
for  his  knife.  Again  his  luck  turned.  He  had  lately  stolen  a 
woman's  apron.  It  was  tied  around  his  waist,  covering  the 
knife  handle,  so  he  could  not  readily  get  at  it.  Old  Morgan, 
however,  was  game  to  the  last.  He  managed  to  get  one  of  the 
savage's  fingers  between  his  teeth.  This  maneuver  caused  the 
Indian  to  howl  with  rage,  and  struggle  furiously  to  get  loose, 
but  Morgan's  jaws  were  locked  on  that  finger  with  the  grip  of 
a  steel  vise. 

Seizing  his  little  advantage,  Morgan  reached  for  the  Indian's 
knife  himself.  Both  grasped  it  at  the  same  instant,  Morgan 
getting  a  small  grip  on  the  handle,  the  savage  a  better  one  on 
the  blade.  At  this  juncture,  Morgan  gave  the  finger  a  terrific 
bite,  and  with  swift  dexterity  twitched  the  knife  out  of  his 
adversary's  hand.  Quick  as  thought  he  plunged  it  into  the 
Indian's  side,  then  into  his  stomach,  blade,  handle,  and  all.  The 
latter  fell  over  on  his  side. 

Old  Morgan  rose,  greatly  exhausted  by  the  exertion  and 
excitement  of  the  struggle,  and  feebly  made  his  way  home.  A 
party  of  neighbors  was  raised  within  an  hour  or  two,  who  found 
that  the  old  man's  antagonist  had  crawled  some  little  distance 
to  a  clump  of  bushes.  When  discovered,  he  held  out  his  hand, 
and  feebly  uttered  "  Brothers ! "  The  whites,  however,  failed  to 
acknowledge  this  claim  of  relationship.  He  was  killed,  scalped, 
and  skinned,  the  hide  being  tanned  by  the  settlers  for  bul 
let-pouches. 

AN  AMERICAN  MEG  MERRILES. 

The  genius  of  Walter  Scott  has  immortalized  the  character 
of  old  Meg  Merriles  throughout  the  world.  Her  character  was 
drawn  from  life,  the  original  being  a  certain  Jean  Gordon,  a 
famous  gypsy  of  the  Scottish  border.  Great  novelists  must 
have  appropriate  subject-matter  on  which  to  base  their  stories. 
The  border  lore  and  legendry  from  which  Scott  drew  his  treas- 


402  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ure,  is  popularly  supposed  to  be  unparalleled.  Nowhere  is  the 
error  of  this  notion,  to  which  we  have  called  attention  in  our 
preface,  better  shown  than  in  the  fact  that  in  the  conflict  of  the 
Ohio  valley,  there  arose  a  woman,  if  such  she  might  be  called, 
more  remarkable  in  career,  more  strange  and  wild  in  character, 
than  Jean  Gordon  ever  was.  "  Mad  Ann  Bailey,"  as  she  was 
known  among  the  settlers,  though  of  vastly  different  origin  and 
surroundings,  bears  a  general  resemblance  to  the  immortal  Meg 
Merriles  of  "  Guy  Mannering." 

The  strange  creature  of  whom  we  write  was  born  in  Liver 
pool,  England,  about  1750.  Her  maiden  name  was  Hennis;  her 
husband  being  Richard  Trotter.  Along  with  other  adventurous 
spirits  of  the  time,  she  and  her  husband  emigrated  to  America, 
and,  as  if  by  instinct,  sought  the  perils  and  excitement  of  bor 
der  life.  Trotter  was  an  Indian  fighter.  He  became  a  volun 
teer  in  Dunmore's  war,  and  was  killed  in  the  bloody  battle  of 
Point  Pleasant.  From  that  day  his  widow  lead  that  strange 
career  which  spread  her  name  far  and  wide  through  the  bor 
der  settlements,  and  which  will  perpetuate  it  so  long  as  the 
stories  of  the  border  struggles  are  read  among  men. 

Thenceforth  she  followed  but  one  pursuit — that  of  fighting 
the  Indians.  She  unsexed  herself,  wore  men's  clothes,  and 
instead  of  household  tasks,  she  took  upon  herself  the  toilsome 
life  of  a  scout.  She  became  a  dead-shot  with  a  rifle.  She 
learned  to  throw  the  tomahawk  with  all  the  accuracy  and 
strength  of  an  Indian  warrior.  As  a  hunter,  she  had  no  supe 
rior  on  the  border.  Wherever  prizes  were  offered  in  contests  in 
rifle  shooting,  tomahawk  throwing,  or  other  athletic  sports,  far 
or  near  along  the  border,  this  strange  and  solitary  woman 
always  appeared  at  the  last  moment  as  a  contestant,  and  carried 
off  the  prize.  She  rode  a  powerful  black  horse,  called  "  Liver 
pool,"  after  her  birthplace.  It  was  the  only  living  creature  she 
loved.  Her  horse  and  rifle  were  her  constant  companions. 

She  spent  her  time  as  other  scouts,  roaming  the  forests  in 
search  of  game,  or  stealthily  watching  in  ambush  for  some  wan- 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  403 

dering  Indian.  Amid  storms  of  rain  and  sleet,  beset  by  the 
rigors  of  winter,  followed  by  wild  beasts,  or  pursued  by  Indians, 
her  immense  frame  of  iron  strength  knew  no  fatigue,  her  rest 
less  rancor  no  slumber.  As  she  bestrode  her  horse,  her  male 
attire,  her  weather-beaten  features,  her  black,  wiry  hair,  cut 
short  in  men's  fashion,  her  cold,  gray  eyes  and  grating  voice, 
her  rifle  easily  thrown  over  her  shoulder,  revealed  the  AMAZON. 
No  service  in  behalf  of  the  settlers  was  too  arduous,  no  mode 
of  injury  to  the  savages  too  cruel  or  bloody  for  her  fierce  zeal. 

The  story  of  one  incident  has  come  down  to  us.  She 
was  making  her  head-quarters  at  Charleston  Fort,  in  West  Vir 
ginia,  when  the  fort  was  besieged  by  an  overwhelming  force  of 
Indians.  Unable  to  subdue  it  by  force,  the  besiegers  undertook 
to  reduce  it  by  famine.  The  brave  pioneers  defended  it  reso 
lutely  until  their  hearts  were  chilled  to  find  the  supply  of 
ammunition  nearly  exhausted.  The  nearest  point  from  which 
supplies  could  be  had  was  more  than  a  hundred  miles  away. 
The  way  lay  through  dense  forests,  bottomless  morasses,  vast 
ranges  of  mountains,  terrible  precipices,  and  rushing  rivers. 
Worse  than  all  this,  the  whole  country  was  overrun  with  war- 
parties  of  savages.  Great  as  was  the  peril  of  the  fort,  great  as 
was  the  peril  of  the  journey,  this  bold  woman  alone  would 
undertake  the  task  of  procuring  supplies.  Avoiding  all  trails, 
roads,  and  regular  passes,  she  took  her  way  directly  across  the 
mountains  of  West  Virginia  for  more  than  a  hundred  miles. 

Reaching  her  destination  in  safety,  she  procured  lead  and 
gunpowder,  loaded  it  on  a  pack-horse,  and  commenced  the  fear 
ful  return  journey.  Followed  by  raving  packs  of  wolves,  at 
every  step  beset  by  hissing  serpents  which  still  infest  the  mount 
ains  of  Virginia,  discovered  and  pursued  by  Indians,  hardly 
daring  to  sleep  a  moment,  she  recrossed  the  mountains  by  a 
different  route,  swam  her  two  beasts  across  foaming  mountain 
torrents,  and,  after  exposure  to  every  conceivable  peril,  and 
escape  from  all,  delivered  her  precious  load  to  the  beleaguered 
garrison.  This  service  became  famous  throughout  the  border. 


404  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

On-  her  return  she  again  took  her  place  among  the  resolute 
defenders  of  the  fort,  doing  guard  duty,  or  sharing  in  the  fray 
of  every  attack. 

At  some  period  in  her  career,  this  strange,  unsexed  creature, 
with  her  disordered  intellect,  was  actually  wooed  and  won  by  a 
man  named  Bailey,  but  this  marriage  made  no  change  in  her  life, 
except  that,  instead  of  being  known  as  "  Mad  Ann,"  she  was 
thereafter  "  Mad  Ann  Bailey."  Her  numerous  services  to  the 
settlers  caused  her  to  be  as  much  loved  by  the  whites  as  she  was 
feared  and  hated  by  the  Indians.  In  the  latter  part  of  her  life, 
when  times  had  become  more  settled,  she  used  at  times  to 
visit  the  families  she  had  known  and  served  in  her  earlier 
years.  From  such  visits  she  never  failed  to  return  laden  down 
with  presents. 

THE  GREAT  FIGHT  OF  POE  AND  BIG  FOOT. 

""No  man  ever  took  more  satisfaction  in  hunting  deer,  bear, 
wolves,  and  buffalo  than  I  have,  but  the  greatest  enjoyment  I 
ever  took  was  in  hunting  Indians."  The  speaker  was  an  old 
man,  of  gigantic  frame  and  shrunken  muscles.  He  sat  by  an 
open  fire-place,  with  its  great  andirons  and  blazing  back-logs. 
Around  him  sat  a  group  of  younger  people,  his  family  and 
friends.  A  hush  was  upon  the  little  circle.  The  old  man  was 
still  quivering  with  excitement,  as  if  he  had  gone  through  some 
violent  exertion  far  beyond  his  strength.  He  had  sat  silent  for 
a  few  moments,  as  if  recovering  his  breath,  and  then  uttered  the 
sentence  given  above. 

The  old  man  was  Andrew  Poe,  a  man  whose  name  was 
known  in  every  cabin  in  the  Ohio  valley  during  the  twenty 
years'  conflict.  His  excitement  and  apparent  exhaustion  had  a 
cause.  He  had  just  been  relating  to  the  company  for  the  hun 
dredth  time  the  thrilling  story  of  his  fight  with  Big  Foot.  As 
he  set  himself  afloat  in  the  current  of  the  story,  he  illustrated 
it  by  action.  He  went  through  all  the  fury  and  effort  of  a 
death-struggle  with  an  imaginary  adversary.  Not  a  detail  of 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  405 

the  fight  had  been  omitted.  With  flashing  eye,  tense  and 
knotted  muscles,  almost  choked  with  frothing  rage,  he  had 
re-enacted  the  scene  with  all  the  spirit  of  the  original  conflict, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  little  group. 

We  have  entered  the  room  too  late  to  hear  the  old  man  tell 
it  himself,  too  late  to  see  him  reproduce  the  conflict  in  all  its 
vividness.  All  we  can  do  is  to  learn  the  story  from  others  who 
heard  old  Poe  relate  it. 

In  1781,  there  stood  on  Harmon's  Creek,  twelve  miles  back 
from  the  Ohio  River,  in  what  is  Washington  County,  Pennsyl 
vania,  a  small  settlement  of  white  people. 

Among  the  settlers  were  two  brothers,  Andrew  Poe,  then 
thirty-nine  years  of  age,  and  his  brother  Adam,  six  years 
younger.  The  elder  was  a  man  of  large  build  and  splendid 
muscular  development.  He  and  his  brother  were  both  Indian 
fighters,  and  were  looked  on  as  the  chief  defenders  of  the  set 
tlement.  Andrew,  especially,  by  reason  of  his  great  strength, 
his  matchless  agility,  and  rare  courage,  was  the  pride  of  the 
valley.  In  the  spring  of  the  year  of  which  we  write,  the  set 
tlement,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  valley,  had  suffered 
heavily  from  Indian  attacks.  On  one  occasion,  while  the  Poes 
and  their  nearest  neighbor,  Kennedy,  were  off  on  a  scout,  a 
party  of  Indians  had  burst  into  Kennedy's  house,  and  murdered 
his  young  wife  and  child. 

A  short  time  afterwards,  probably  in  June,  a  band  of  seven 
bloody  Wyandots  stole  into  the  settlement  at  midnight,  broke 
into  a  lonely  cabin,  in  which  lived  William  Jackson,  all  alone. 
He  was  an  old  man,  sixty  years  of  age.  Having  made 
Jackson  a  captive,  they  attempted  to  enter  another  house,  but 
aroused  the  inmates,  who  gave  the  alarm.  The  seven  Indians 
made  off  with  their  prisoner.  The  men  of  the  settlement  were 
quickly  collected.  Jackson  was  discovered  to  be  missing. 

Arrangements  were  made  for  pursuit.  In  the  morning,  as 
soon  as  it  was  light  enough  to  see  the  trail  of  the  marauders, 
which  was  tolerably  distinct  in  the  high  dewy  grass,  the  settlers 


406  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

set  out  to  save  their  friend.  Twelve  of  them  rode  at  full  speed 
toward  the  river.  At  the  top  of  a  steep  descent  to  the  river, 
down  which  the  trail  led,  the  horses  were  hitched,  and  the  men 
pressed  forward  on  foot.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  the  trail  turned 
down  the  river.  It  led  across  a  shallow  rivulet  that  entered  the 
Ohio.  The  waters  of  the  stream  were  muddied.  They  had 
been  recently  disturbed.  Andrew  Poe  called  the  attention  of 
the  men  to  it,  as  a  suggestion  that  the  game  was  near.  He  had 
been  convinced  by  the  indications  of  the  trail  that  the  Indians 
were  led  by  a  person  no  less  distinguished  than  the  renowned 
"Big  Foot,"  chief  of  the  Wyandots,  so  called  from  the  size  of 
his  feet,  which,  however,  were  not  out  of  proportion  to  his 
immense  stature  and  Herculean  proportions. 

Poe  was  not  unwilling  to  measure  his  strength  with  such  a 
famous  adversary,  should  opportunity  occur.  For  some  reason, 
after  crossing  the  rivulet,  while  the  others  followed  the  trail 
leading  away  from  the  river  bank,  Poe  turned  to  his  right,  and 
kept  on  alone  through  some  heavy  willows  along  the  shore. 
Suddenly  he  discovered,  about  twelve  feet  below  him  on  the 
slope  toward  the  water,  two  Indians,  crouching  behind  a  small 
bluff  or  elevation  in  the  river  bank.  They  had  guns  cocked 
.and  were  looking  intently  towards  a  spot  from  which  they  had 
heard  a  noise.  One  Indian  was  of  enormous  size,  and  Poe  at 
once  conjectured  that  he  was  no  other  than  Big  Foot.  The 
other,  though  smaller,  was  fully  the  equal  of  Poe,  who  was 
himself  the  boast  of  the  settlements. 

To  take  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  to  level  his  gun  at  the 
breast  of  Big  Foot,  and  draw  the  trigger  was  the  work  of  an 
instant.  But  the  much  vaunted  weapons  of  the  pioneers  were 
clumsy  affairs  to  those  of  to-day.  The  gun  missed  fire.  The 
Indians  yelled.  Poe  hastily  drew  back  into  the  bushes.  Just 
then  the  rest  of  the  party  had  overtaken  the  other  five  Indians 
a  hundred  yards  down  the  river.  The  shots  momentarily 
attracted  the  attention  of  Poe's  adversaries.  He  a  second  time 
attempted  to  fire. 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  407 

A  second  time,  as  if  reluctant  for  its  task,  the  gun  missed 
fire.  Poe  flung  it  down,  boldly  jumped  over  the  bluff,  throw 
ing  one  arm  around  Big  Foot's  neck,  and  the  other  around  his 
companion,  throwing  both  to  the  ground  by  his  weight  and 
momentum.  Big  Foot  fell  on  his  back,  with  Poe  on  top  of  him, 
on  his  left  side,  his  left  arm  around  the  Indian's  neck.  The 
smaller  Indian  fell  to  the  right  of  the  other  two,  but  with 
his  head  caught  in  the  vise-like  grip  of  Poe's  right  upper  arm 
and  side.  From  this  embarrassing  situation  the  smaller  savage 
struggled  to  withdraw  his  head,  but  in  vain. 

Poe  felt  that  in  order  to  save  his  life  he  must  kill  one  of  his 
opponents,  before  either  disengaged  himself  from  him.  If  one 
of  them  should  get  free  while  he  still  held  down  the  other,  he 
saw  little  hope.  To  kill  Big  Foot,  however,  he  must  get  at  his 
knife.  This  was  in  its  scabbard,,  pressed  tightly  between  his 
left  side  and  Big  Foot's  body.  Nor  could  he  use  more  than  his 
fore  right  arm  in  his  effort  to  disengage  it.  He  pulled  and 
tugged  frenziedly  to  get  the  knife  out,  but  Big  Foot's  hand  was 
also  on  it.  While  Poe  and  his  larger  antagonist  tugged  at  the 
knife,  the  other  lunged  and  twisted  to  free  himself.  At  last 
Poe  gave  a  furious  wrench  to  the  knife,  and  Big  Foot  suddenly 
letting  go,  the  weapon  came  out  suddenly.  '  Poe's  arm  pulling 
at  the  knife,  and  unexpectedly  released,  jerked  back,  releasing 
the  smaller  Indian  from  its  grip,  the  knife  at  the  same  time 
slipping  from  Poe's  fingers,  and  flying  into  the  river. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  Big  Foot  threw  his  long  arm 
about  Poe,  and  hugged  with  all  his  strength.  The  latter  strug 
gled  to  free  himself.  The  smaller  Indian  overlooking,  or,  per 
haps,  for  fear  of  shooting  Big  Foot,  afraid  to  use  a  cocked  gun 
lying  just  at  Poe's  head,  ran  to  a  canoe,  ten  feet  away,  seized 
a  tomahawk,  and  running  back,  gave  a  terrific  hack  at  Poe's 
head.  The  latter,  however,  though  still  a  prisoner  in  the  iron 
embrace  of  Big  Foot,  managed,  just  as  the  Indian  delivered  the 
stroke,  to  give  his  wrist  a  terrific  kick  with  his  right  foot,  divert- 
ing  the  blow,  and  flinging  the  tomahawk  into  the  river. 


408  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

At  this  Big  Foot  bellowed  furiously  at  his  companion  in  his 
own  tongue.  The  latter  procured  the  other  tomahawk,  and,  care 
fully  avoiding  Poe's  heels,  again  struck  at  him.  This  time  Poe 
threw  up  his  right  arm,  received  the  blow  in  his  wrist,  one  bone 
and  the  cords  of  three  fingers  being  cut,  and  the  hand  practi 
cally  disabled.  Giving  his  arm  a  jerk,  the  tomahawk,  which 
was  caught  in  the  sinews,  was  snatched  from  the  Indian's  hand, 
and  Poe  in  turn  threw  it  into  the  river. 

At  this  moment  Big  Foot's  embrace  relaxed.  Poe  tore  him- 
self  loose,  snatching  up  the  cocked  gun  with  his  left  hand  as  he 
rose,  and  in  a  moment  shot  the  smaller  Indian  through  the  body. 
Just  as  the  builet  left  the  barrel,  Big  Foot,  who  had  risen  only 
less  quickly  than  Poe,  seized  him  by  the  neck  and  leg,  and 
pitched  him  toward  the  river  as  if  he  were  a  chip.  Poe,  how 
ever,  could  not  be  excelled  for  activity.  Though  too  late  to 
prevent  this,  he  threw  his  left  hand  back,  caught  the  Indian's 
buckskin  breech  clout  firmly,  and,  as  he  fell,  dragged  Big  Foot 
with  him  over  the  bank  into  the  river. 

The  water  was  deep.  Each  man  struggled  with  unearthly 
fury  to  drown  the  other.  The  water  was  lashed  into  angry 
foam  by  their  conflict.  First  one  and  then  the  other  obtained 
the  advantage.  At  last,  Poe  got  his  fingers  on  the  Indian's 
scalp-lock,  and  held  him  under,  as  he  supposed,  till  he  was 
strangled.  But  the  Indian  had  deceived  him  by  keeping  quiet. 
As  Poe  let  go  the  scalp-lock  to  get  his  knife  and  end  the 
contest,  the  latter  seized  Poe,  and  in  turn  put  him  under. 

But  Poe  was  still  full  of  resources ;  though  half  strangled,  he 
managed  to  struggle  toward  deeper  water.  The  current  seized 
them,  carried  both  beyond  their  depth,  and  the  Indian,  as  well 
as  Poe,  was  obliged  to  let  go  his  hold  and  swim  for  life.  There 
was  yet  one  loaded  gun  on  shore.  To  get  that  weapon  each 
adversary  put  forth  every  exertion.  Poor  Poe,  however,  hav 
ing  only  one  hand  to  swim  with,  saw  Big  Foot  beating  him  in 
the  race.  He  therefore  turned  again  to  mid-stream,  intending  to 
dive.  Big  Foot  gained  the  shore,  picked  up  the  loaded  gun,  but 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  409 

in  cocking  it  broke  the  hammer.  Throwing  it  down  he  snatched 
the  empty  rifle,  and  ran  to  the  canoe  for  ammunition. 

At  this  moment  Adam  Poe  came  running  down  the  shore,  to 
find  out  what  was  the  matter.  Andrew  shouted  to  him  to 
"shoot  the  big  Indian  on  shore."  Adam's  gun  was  empty. 
Just  as  Big  Foot  was  loading  his  gun,  Adam  began  the  same 
act  with  his.  Each  felt  that  his  life  depended  on  completing 
the  charge  first.  Big  Foot  would  inevitably  have  been  ready  to 
fire  first,  had  not  another  mishap  befallen  him.  In  withdrawing 
his  ramrod  too  hastily,  it  slipped  from  his  hand.  The  time  it 
took  to  pick  it  up  gave  Adam  Poe  the  advantage.  Just  as  Big 
Foot  raised  his  gun,  Poe  fired,  and  killed  him. 

The  fight  was  ended,  but  not  its  mishaps.  Another  white 
man  following  Adam  Poe  down  the  bank,  seeing  that  the  latter 
had  shot  an  Indian  on  shore,  and  perceiving  Andrew  Poe,  with 
bloody  face,  swimming  rapidly  from  the  shore,  mistook  him  for 
an  Indian,  fired  and  shot  him  in  the  shoulder.  Adam  Poe, 
alarmed  for  his  brother,  started  to  swim  to  his  help,  but  the  lat 
ter  shouted  to  him  to  let  him  alone,  and  "scalp  the  Indian." 
Adam,  however,  refused,  thinking  more  of  his  brother's  safety 
than  of  the  trophy.  Big  Foot,  mortally  wounded,  exerted  his 
failing  strength  to  roll  himself  into  the  river  and  keep  his  tri 
umphant  antagonist  from  winning  the  glory  of  taking  Big  Foot's 
scalp.  As  the  two  brothers  started  to  the  shore,  the  swift  cur 
rent  of  the  Ohio  swept  the  body  of  Big  Foot,  scalp  and  all, 
out  of  sight. 

It  may  be  easily  understood  how  the  story  of  this  fight 
spread  throughout  the  border  settlements,  and ,  made  Andrew 
Poe  the  most  famous  man  in  his  part  of  the  country. 

FIVE  KENTUCKY  BOYS  AND  THEIR  PLUCK. 

It  is  easy  to  see  what  sort  of  men  the  pioneers  were.  But 
what  about  the  children  ?  ^Nothing  is  more  interesting  than  the 
influence  of  border  life  upon  boys.  There  is  something  in  it 
which  summons  forth  all  the  latent  heroism  of  the  youthful 


410  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

heart.  We  yet  see  this  trait  in  the  boys  of  our  Middle  and 
Western  States.  Books  of  adventure,  of  pioneering,  of  Indian 
fights,  of  explorations,  form  their  chosen  literature.  No  matter 
how  quiet  and  attentive  they  may  be  in  school,  one  may  be  cer 
tain  that  stuffed  away  in  some  corner  of  their  desk  is  a  dog 
eared  book  of  adventure,  a  book  in  which  scouts  perform  impos 
sible  exploits,  in  which  one  man  whips  a  dozen  red  Indians, 
and  rescues  a  pretty  girl  whom  they  have  made  a  captive;  in 
which  abound  hair-breadth  escapes,  and  bold  adventures  of  boys 
of  their  own  age,  who  either  by  chance  or  by  choice  live  in 
that  mysterious  and  wonderful  region  known  as  THE  BORDER. 

Many  of  these  books  no  doubt  are  vicious.  We  pause  not 
to  moralize.  We  simply  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  this 
appetite  for  adventure  is  in  a  boy,  in  such  strength,  that  no 
vigilance  of  parents,  nor  instruction  of  teachers  can  prevent  him 
from  gratifying  it.  He  will  have  and  will  read  books  of  adven 
ture — the  best,  the  worst.  "  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,"  and 
"Long  Haired  Jack,  the  Mountain  Avenger,"  alike.  If  there  is 
a  public  library  in  the  community,  it  is  the  books  of  this  sort 
which  are  seized  and  read  with  appalling  voracity.  If  not,  then 
each  boy  furtively  lends  his  treasure  to  every  other  boy,  until 
the  worn  volume  has  gone  the  rounds,  whereupon,  if  no  other 
be  at  hand,  the  same  book  is  read  over  again.  Whence  conies 
this  appetite?  Is  it  not  an  inheritance  from  our  fathers  who 
fought  the  wars  of  the  real  border,  and  which  is  only  over 
whelmed  and  destroyed  by  contact  with  the  practical  side 
of  life  ? 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  America  has  been  colonized  and 
populated  by  the  boldest  spirits  of  every  clime,  men  and  women 
who  spurned  the  quiet  comfort  of  their  homes  in  the  "old  coun 
try,"  and  chose  rather  the  excitement  and  dangers  of  the  wil 
derness.  Then  we  may  understand  how  natural  it  is  for  the 
American  boy  to  love  books  of  adventure.  Then  we  may  see 
whence  comes  that  restless  longing,  which,  unsatisfied  with  the 
quiet  life  of  home,  and  the  rigid  discipline  of  school — in  short, 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  411 

finding  no  scope  or  outlet  in  real  life— seeks  vent  and  gratifica 
tion  in  imaginary  adventures  and  exploits. 

The  children  of  the  pioneers  were  offspring  worthy  of  their 
sires.  It  was  about  1785  that  a  group  of  five  Kentucky  boys 
afforded  a  splendid  illustration  of  this.  Colonel  Pope  was  a 
leading  citizen  in  a  settlement  near  Louisville,  Kentucky.  Feel 
ing  keenly  the  total  absence  of  educational  facilities  for  his  two 
sons  on  the  frontier,  he  employed  a  tutor  for  them.  He  gen 
erously  invited  several  of  the  neighbor's  lads  to  share  the  privi 
leges  of  instruction.  Among  them  were  two  sons  of  Colonel 
Linn,  a  famous  scout,  who  had  been  killed  by  Indians.  To 
them  Colonel  Pope  sustained  the  relation  of  guardian. 

The  little  school  had  no  session  on  Saturdays.  On  these 
days  the  boys  were  accustomed  to  have  their  fun.  One  Satur 
day  in  February  five  of  these  school-boys  went  out  for  a  hunt. 
In  the  party  were  the  two  Linns,  William  Wells,  Brashear,  and 
a  fifth  whose  name  is  not  preserved.  They  were  little  fellows, 
ranging  from  ten  to  fourteen  years  old.  Yet  they  were  marks 
men  who  might  well  put  to  blush  many  of  the  best  shots  of  the 
present  day.  They  made  a  trip  of  several  miles  from  home,  to 
a  region  of  ponds  and  swamps,  in  which  abounded  ducks,  geese, 
and  swans.  They  had  a  rare  day,  and,  delaying  until  too  late 
to  return  home,  they  decided  to  encamp  for  the  night  on  the 
spot.  As  to  the  proper  method  of  building  a  hut  and  spread 
ing  boughs  for  their  beds,  they  were  thoroughly  posted.  Dur 
ing  the  night  a  light  snow  covered  the  ground. 

Rising  early,  they  prepared  their  breakfast,  and  made  ready 
to  return  home,  when  suddenly  a  party  of  Indians  "burst  into 
their  little  camp  with  unearthly  yells.  Two  of  the  boys 
attempted  to  run.  Of  these,  the  elder  Linn  being  fat  and 
clumsy,  and  encumbered  with  some  game  he  had  hung  over  his 
shoulder,  stumbled  and  fell.  For  this  the  Indians  called  him 
"Fat  Bear."  Brashear,  however,  was  fleet  of  foot,  and  came 
near  escaping.  He,  however,  like  all  the  rest,  was  captured, 
but  his  agility  won  him  the  name  of  "  Buck  Elk." 

23 


412  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Having  secured  their  boy  captives,  the  Indians  demanded  to 
know  where  they  came  from.  "  From  Louisville,"  said  Brash- 
ear.  "You  lie,"  was  the  gentle  response  of  the  leading  Indian. 
But  the  boys  stuck  to  the  falsehood,  and  by  their  sagacity  and 
firmness  prevented  the  savages  from  advancing  upon  the  defense 
less  settlement  in  which  they  lived. 

When  they  found  themselves  prisoners  the  boys  took  it 
coolly  enough.  Their  captors  at  once  started  on  the  journey  to 
their  distant  wigwams.  They  crossed  the  Ohio  River  and 
moved  northward  through  what  is  the  State  of  Indiana.  Every 
day  took  the  five  plucky  little  fellows  farther  from  home,  and 
decreased  their  chances  for  rescue.  Yet  they  kept  quiet,  ate 
heartily  of  the  game  and  other  food  provided  by  the  Indians, 
and  above  all  remained  cheerful.  Their  journey  did  not  end 
till  they  reached  an  Indian  village  on  the  Little  Calumet  River, 
near  the  present  town  of  Valparaiso,  in  north-western  Indiana. 

On  entering  the  village  they  were  compelled  to  run  the 
gauntlet.  This,  however,  they  knew  exactly  how  to  do,  having 
heard  about  it  all  their  lives,  and  having  prepared  themselves  in 
mind  for  the  ordeal.  Two  rows  of  Indian  boys,  some  smaller, 
many  larger  than  themselves,  were  drawn  up.  The  young 
Indians  had  their  hands  full  of  clubs,  tomahawks,  dirt,  salt, 
and  stones. 

At  the  word,  away  dashed  the  five  spirited  little  Kentuck- 
ians  at  the  top  of  their  speed.  They  were  met  with  showers 
of  filth,  missiles,  and  blows,  but  by  rapid  running  and  skillful 
dodging,  they  were  in  a  fair  way  to  get  through  all  right.  Just 
as  the  younger  Linn,  who  was  in  front,  was  three-quarters  down 
the  p«mks  of  howling  redskins,  an  Indian  boy,  much  larger  than 
himself,  hit  him  a  stunning  blow  with  his  fist.  Linn  was  a  hot- 
blooded  and  fiery-tempered  fellow  at  best.  Resenting  the  insult 
with  all  the  fury  of  his  impetuous  nature,  he  knocked  the  ruffian 
down  by  a  left-handed  stroke.  At  this  clever  feat,  the  assem 
bled  crowd  of  warriors  gave  vent  to  a  huge  uproar  of  laughter, 
but  the  squaws  sympathized  with  their  own  blood. 


•  stfK.- '•-•••  KjM;  ^BT«Fj 

i 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  415 

Young  Linn  quickly  planted  himself  with  his  back  to  the 
council-house,  and  with  clenched  fists  uplifted,  and  his  eyes 
blazing  with  rage  through  his  heavy,  tangled  hair,  which  in  the 
melee  had  fallen  over  his  forehead,  awaited  the  onslaught  which 
he  knew  was  sure  to  come.  A  large  and  brawny  young  Indian, 
with  a  sinister  countenance,  ran  at  him.  Linn  received  him 
with  the  same  left-handed  stroke  which  had  been  so  effective 
before,  and  knocking  him  down,  sprang  on  him  with  the  ferocity 
of  a  panther,  kicking,  biting,  pinching,  and  pounding  till,  in  a 
moment,  his  formidable  foe  was  completely  demoralized. 

The  ring  of  warriors  shouted  and  danced  with  delight  at 
this  sport,  which  was  so  much  better  than  any  gauntlet  running. 
But  the  whole  crowd  of  juvenile  Indians,  seeing  their  champions 
vanquished,  now  became  pugnacious,  and  rushed  upon  him  to 
demolish  him.  At  this,  the  other  four  Kentuckians  came  to 
their  friend's  rescue,  and  fought  the  howling  mass  of  Indian 
youth  with  the  fury  of  tigers  turned  at  bay.  They  fought 
against  great  odds,  but  being  far  superior  to  their  enemies  in 
athletic  and  pugilistic  skill,  they  overthrew  them  one  by  one, 
until  the  rest  were  glad  to  run  off. 

The  warriors  here  intervened,  and  proudly  carried  the  boys 
into  the  council-house,  to  be  adopted  into  the  tribe  as  Indians. 
Four  of  the  boys  were  adopted  into  the  families  of  the  leading 
warriors  of  the  village.  Poor  Wells,  however,  fell  to  the  lot 
of  an  Indian  living  in  a  remote  village.  With  sad  hearts  the 
boys  parted  from  him  as  he  went  from  them,  and  they  never 
saw  him  again.  For  many  years  he  lived  with  the  Indians, 
marrying  a  sister  of -Little  Turtle,  one  of  their  celebrated  chiefs, 
and  fighting  with  his  tribe  against  the  whites.  He  afterwards 
rejoined  the  whites,  and  became  a  noted  scout  under  General 
Wayne. 

The  other  boys,  becoming  gradually  accustomed  to  the  loss 
of  their  friend,  rapidly  adapted  themselves  toward  their  new 
mode  of  life.  They  soon  excelled  in  all  Indian  sports,  and 
seemed  so  well  satisfied  with  the  pleasures  of  savage  life,  fish- 


416  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ing  and  hunting,  wrestling,  racing,  riding  Indian  ponies,  and 
romping  with  the  maidens,  that  their  captors  no  longer  enter 
tained  any  suspicion  of  their  disloyalty,  and  they  were  allowed 
to  roam  about  as  they  pleased.  The  boys,  however,  were  play 
ing  a  deep  game,  and  were  only  biding  their  time  to  escape. 

The  chance  came  at  last.  In  the  autumn  after  their  capture 
the  warriors  went  off  on  their  annual  hunt,  roaming  far  and 
wide  over  the  country  in  quest  of  game,  leaving  the  village 
inhabited  only  by  old  men,  squaws,  and  children.  One  day  the 
four  boys  arranged  to  go  fishing  some  miles  from  the  village. 
An  old  Indian  and  his  wife  alone  accompanied  them. 

The  boys  felt  this  to  be  their  opportunity  for  escape.  But 
a  serious  problem  had  first  to  be  solved.  Did  they  dare  to 
leave  the  old  Indian  and  his  squaw  alive  ?  The  struggle  in 
their  minds  was  painful.  The  old  people  were  kind  to  them  in 
their  way.  To  kill  them  seemed  terrible.  Yet  to  leave  them 
alive  meant  speedy  discovery  of  their  flight,  pursuit,  and  prob 
ably  recapture,  as  the  long  journey  to  their  homes  lay  through 
a  wilderness  of  which  they  were  ignorant,  while  their  pursuers 
were  thoroughly  familiar  with  it.  These  boys,  it  must  be 
remembered,  had  been  brought  up  to  regard  the  Indians  as 
their  most  abhorred  enemies.  Frontier  life  was  a  constant  war 
fare  with  them.  The  father  of  two  of  them  had  been  killed  by 
savages  only  four  years  before.  These  things  decided  them. 

At  dead  of  night  the  boys  rose  stealthily,  armed  themselves 
with  tomahawks,  and  two  of  them  placed  themselves  at  the  head 
of  each  sleeping  Indian.  At  a  signal  from  Brashear,  they  all 
struck  at  the  skulls  of  the  sleepers,  killing  them  instantly. 
Hastily  collecting  the  little  stock  of  provisions  in  the  camp,  the 
boys  set  out  in  the  darkness  for  home.  Happy  thought !  With 
the  skill  of  a  band  of  Indian  warriors  themselves,  they  pursued 
their  flight,  traveling  by  night,  guiding  their  course  by  the 
north  star,  lying  by,  hid  in  bushes  and  deep  grass  by  day. 
They  subsisted  on  nuts,  wild  berries,  roots,  and  occasionally  a 
squirrel  or  rabbit,  which  they  succeeded  in  killing  with  a  stone. 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.    ,  417 

Their  journey  lay  through  a  vast  wilderness  of  gloomy 
swamps,  lonely  forests,  solitary  rivers,  and  silent  prairies,  which 
is  now  thickly  populated  with  the  citizens  of  Indiana.  Their 
journey  must  have  taken  them  over  the  site  of  the  present 
splendid  city  of  Indianapolis,  the  capital  of  the  State,  a  city 
of  fine  public  buildings,  of  wide,  well-paved  and  brilliantly 
lighted  streets  and  avenues,  lined  with  tall  business  blocks,  a 
city  with  miles  of  elegant  residences,  with  numerous  churches, 
handsome  theaters,  large  manufacturing  establishments,  modern 
school-houses,  and  more  railways  than  any  other  strictly  interior 
city  on  the  globe.  The  site  of  all  this  was,  at  the  time  of 
the  boys'  journey,  a  bottomless  marsh.  Besides  this,  our  young 
heroes'  path  led  them  through  the  sites  of  innumerable  flour 
ishing  county  towns,  such  as  Loganspoft,  Franklin,  Columbus, 
Seymour,  New  Albany,  and  Jeffersonville.  Yet,  in  all  their 
journey,  they  saw  not  a  white  man's  clearing,  nor  a  single  cabin, 
nor  a  settlement. 

After  a  three  weeks'  journey,  they  reached  the  shores  of  the 
Ohio,  opposite  Louisville.  Here  they  tried  by  shouts  and  ges 
tures  to  induce  their  friends  to  come  over  for  them.  But  the 
Indians  had  been  very  troublesome  that  summer,  and  moreover, 
the  young  pioneers  were  dressed  and  disguised  until  they  looked 
for  all  the  world  like  four  young  Indians.  So  the  good  people 
of  Louisville  remained  on  their  own  side. 

Nothing  disheartened  the  boys  went  up  the  river  some  dis 
tance,  and,  with  no  tool  but  a  small  knife,  constructed  a  raft. 
Their  haste  to  finish  it  was  so  great,  and  the  thing  was  so  rick 
ety,  that  it  would  only  bear  the  weight  of  three.  The  elder 
Linn,  being  a  splendid  swimmer,  swam  by  its  side  while  the 
others  paddled.  In  this  way  they  reached  the  Kentucky 
shore.  Just  as  they  landed,  their  pursuers  appeared  on  the 
opposite  shore,  mad  with  rage  at  their  escape.  Linn  was  nearly 
exhausted  by  his  long  swim  in  the  chilly  waters.  But  they 
soon  found  Colonel  Pope,  who  had  been  driven  from  his  settle 
ment  by  Indians,  and  was  living  in  Louisville.  He  gave  them 

< 


418  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  hearty  welcome,  supplied  their  wants,  and  listened  to  their 
thrilling  story  with  the  joy  of  a  loving  father.  The  only  cloud 
in  the  sky  was  the  absence  of  poor  Wells,  whose  fate  remained 
unknown  to  his  companions. 

WHO  WAS  HE? 

It  was  one  morning  in  1780,  that  the  inmates  of  a  cabin  in 
what  is  Bourbon  County,  Kentucky,  were  startled  by  strange 
yells  from  the  outside.  The  door  was  slightly  opened,  and, 
while  no  person  was  in  sight,  the  yells  were  discovered  to 'pro 
ceed  from  a  dense  clump  of  underbrush.  The  bushes  were  vio 
lently  shaken,  and  in  a  moment  there  stepped  into  view  a  man. 
His  features  were  European,  but  his  complexion,  costume,  and 
speech  were  Indian.  He  continued  to  jabber  in  a  loud  voice, 
rolling  his  eyes  and  gesticulating  in  a  frightful  manner.  In 
a  short  time  all  the  people  in  the  little  settlement  had  formed 
in  a  circle  around  him. 

From  his  jargon,  the  settlers,  who  knew  a  little  of  the 
Indian  language,  made  out  that,  when  a  little  child,  he  had 
been  captured  by  the  Indians  and  had  been  reared  by  them ; 
that  of  his  home  or  parents  he  remembered  nothing ;  that  he  had 
gone  out  on  a  hunt  with  his  Indian  father  and  brothers,  and 
had  accidentally  come  within  sight  of  the  white  men's  cabins. 
The  view  had  acted  like  a  magician's  wand.  In  an  instant  all 
the  associations  and  attachments  of  the  long  years  of  life  in  the 
wigwam  had  been  swept  away.  He  was  seized  with  an  over 
whelming  desire  to  rejoin  the  people  of  his  birth,  and  now  he 
begged  them  to  receive  him.  His  Indian  father  would  miss  him, 
but  he  wanted  to  rejoin  the  white  people,  and,  if  possible,  learn 
something  of  his  own  birth  and  parentage. 

The  settlers  conversed  in  a  low  tone  among  themselves,  and, 
fearful  lest  he  should  be  a  decoy,  asked  him  many  questions. 
Among  other  things  he  said  that  he  and  his  companions  had 
ascended  the  Licking  River  in  a  canoe,  and  burying  it,  had 
struck  into  the  woods.  The  cautious  pioneers,  therefore,  as  a 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  419 

test  of  the  truth  of  his  story,  proposed  that  he  conduct  them 
to  the  spot  where  the  canoe  lay  concealed. 

As  soon  as  he  understood  the  request,  the  stranger  protested 
most  vehemently  against  it.  He  said,  that  while  he  desired  to 
leave  his  Indian  father  and  brother,  yet  they  had  raised  him 
and  been  very  kind  to  him  for  many  years ;  that  they  were  the 
only  friends  he  could  remember  having  ever  had,  and  he  would 
not  on  any  account  betray  them.  The  suspicion  of  the  group 
of  listeners  deepened  at  this  answer.  They  demanded  that  he 
lead  them  to  the  canoe  at  once,  or  they  would  treat  him  as  a 
prisoner.  With  the  strongest  reluctance  he  set  out  to  guide  the 
company  of  twenty  mounted  men  to  the  buried  canoe. 

Perhaps,  with  the  hope  of  giving  his  Indian  friends  time  to 
escape,  the  wild  stranger  nervously  explained  that  he  would 
first  lead  the  white  men  to  a  spot  where  he  and  his  father  and 
brother  had  encamped,  and  where  he  said  they  would  find  a 
kettle  hidden  in  a  hollow  log.  As  they  approached  the  spot 
from  a  distance  they  discovered  two  Indians  in  the  camp,  an 
old  man  and  a  boy,  sitting  by  the  fire,  roasting  some  venison. 
At  the  sight  the  stranger  burst  into  tears,  and  falling  on  his 
knees,  begged  and  implored  the  white  men  in  the  most  vehement 
and  frenzied  manner,  to  spare  his  Indian  father  and  brother. 

Moved  by  his  entreaties,  the  pioneers  formed  a  circle  to  sur 
round  the  two  Indians,  with  the  notion,  real  or  pretended,  of 
taking  them  captive.  The  old  man,  however,  fought  with  such 
desperation  that  they  killed  him,  while  the  boy,  with  incredible 
agility,  escaped  into  the  forest.  Seeing  the  old  Indian  fall,  the 
stranger  leaped  from  his  horse,  and  running,  threw  his  arms 
around  the  neck  of  the  dying  savage,  begging  his  forgiveness 
for  having  unwittingly  betrayed  him  to  death.  The  aged  Indian 
evidently  recognized  him,  giving  him  a  pressure  of  the  hand, 
but  he  was  too  far  gone  to  speak. 

The  settlers  at  once  called  loudly  to  the  stranger  to  lead 
them  at  a  gallop  to  the  buried  canoe.  He  wrung  his  hands  in 
bitter  agony,  begging  them  to  see  that  he  had  already  given 


420  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

proof  of  his  honesty  at  the  cost  of  his  father's  death,  and 
beseeching  that  they  might  spare  his  younger  brother.  The 
only  response  was  a  peremptory  demand  to  lead  them  to  the 
canoe  without  delay.  They  rightly  surmised  that  the  young 
Indian  would  hasten  thither.  Overwhelmed  with  grief,  the 
stranger  again  mounted  his  horse.  In  two  hours  they  reached 
the  spot.  No  footprints  were  visible.  The  young  Indian  had 
not  arrived. 

The  men  at  once  hid  themselves  in  the  bushes  to  wait.  In 
ten  minutes  the  young  savage  came  running  to  the  spot,  and 
commenced  hastily  to  dig  up  the  canoe.  In  a  moment  he  fell, 
pierced  by  a  dozen  balls.  With  a  mournful  cry  the  strange 
white  man  hid  his  face  in  his  hands.  They  took  him  back  to 
the  settlement,  but  he  mourned  all  the  day  long,  saying  over 
and  over  to  himself  in  the  Indian  tongue,  "I  betrayed  my  best 
friends.  I  killed  my  father.  I  killed  my  brother.  Oh,  me!" 

One  morning  the  strange  and  unhappy  man  was  missing. 
He  appears  only  for  this  single  act  in  the  drama  of  history. 
That  act  is  tragedy.  Whether  he  sought  out  the  white  settle 
ments  of  the  east,  or  returned  to  the  smoky  wigwam  which  he 
had  deprived  of  both  its  support  and  its  hope,  or  whether,  mad 
dened  with  grief,  Judas  like,  he  went  out  into  the  solitary  wil 
derness,  and  there,  alone  with  his  God,  expiated  his  crime  with 
the  act  of  self-destruction,  will  never  be  known. 

THE  FIEST  CHICKAMAUGA. 

Horse-stealing  is  in  the  frontier  code  the  worst  of  all  crimes. 
This  is  because  it  is  the  one  against  which  there  is  the  least 
protection.  In  the  spring  of  1784,  a  small  Kentucky  settlement 
suffered  this  depredation  from  Indians.  The  pursuing  party 
failed  to  overtake  the  thieves.  Three  of  the  pursuers,  all  hot- 
blooded  fellows,  named  McClure,  Davis,  and  Caffree,  determined 
to  push  on  south  to  some  Indian  village,  make  reprisals  of  other 
horses,  and  thus  balance  the  account. 

One  day,  traveling  along  a  trail,  the  three  white  men  fell  in 

* 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  421 

with  three  Indians.  It  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Tennessee 
River,  probably  south  of  it,  and  near  an  Indian  village  called 
Chicacaugo,  or  Chicamaugo.  It  seems  not  improbable  that  this 
was  near  the  field  of  the  great  battle  of  Chickamauga,  in  the  civil 
war,  to  which  the  name  was  given  from  the  creek  near  which  it 
was  fought.  The  two  parties  were  equal  in  numbers.  After 
a  moment's  thought  each  seemed  to  come  to  the  same  conclu 
sion.  Instead  of  fighting,  they  made  signs  of  friendship,  and 
agreed  to  travel  together.  The  three  white  men  walked  in  sin 
gle  file  on  one  side  of  the  path;  the  three  Indians  walked  in 
single  file  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  path. 

For  a  while  this  interesting  procession  held  its  way  along 
the  forest  trail  without  incident  or  delay.  It  was  observed  at  the 
end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  that  the  Indians  were  marching  very 
close  together.  Moreover  they  were,  without  turning  their 
heads,  whispering  to  one  another.  The  white  men  saw  danger. 
Each  selected  his  man.  Caifree,  the  most  powerful  of  the  party, 
leaped  upon  one  Indian.  Davis,  at  the  same  instant,  fired  at 
the  second  Indian,  but  missed  him.  McClure,  with  better  suc 
cess,  killed  his  man. 

Leaving  Caffree  still  wrestling  with  his  foe,  his  two  compan 
ions  jumped  behind  trees.  The  other  Indian  fired  at  Caffree, 
inflicting  a  mortal  wound,  and  was  in  turn  shot  by  the  cool- 
headed  McClure,  who  had  reloaded  his  weapon.  Caffree,  poor 
fellow,  struggling  now  not  only  with  the  Indian,  but  with 
the  arch-enemy  Death  himself,  called  for  help.  Davis  ran 
towards  him,  but  when  half-way  to  him,  the  Indian  threw  off 
Caffree's  weakening  grasp,  seized  his  gun,  and  took  aim  at 
Davis.  The  latter  dropped  his  gun,  still  unloaded,  and  ran  off 
into  the  forest. 

McClure,  the  coolest  man  of  the  trio,  having  already  killed 
two  Indians,  shouldered  Davis's  gun,  and  ran  after  him.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  in  the  short  instant  of  picking  up  the  gun,  he 
lost  sight  of  both  pursuer  and  pursued.  On  he  ran  into  the 
thick  shadows  of  the  southern  forest,  but  not  a  trace  could  he 


422  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

discover  of  their  flight.  He  stopped  to  listen.  Not  a  sign  was 
audible,  but  the  steady  plash  of  the  little  creek  of  Chica- 
maugo,  or  the  twittering  of  the  birds.  He  ran  on  a  little  farther, 
and  called  aloud.  No  answer  came,  but  the  mocking  echo,  which 
rang  in  thousand-voiced  responses,  each  fainter  than  the  last, 
from  every  direction  in  the  forest.  He  shouted  with  all  his 
power.  It  only  seemed  to  wake  a  thousand  fiends,  who  took 
up  his  words  and  hurled  them  back  and  forth.  The  fate  of 
Davis  is  unknown  to  this  day. 

McClure,  left  alone  in  the  Indian  country,  resolved  to  make 
his  way  home  at  once,  if  possible.  No  more  fine  notions  in 
him  about  running  off  a  whole  herd  of  Indian  ponies  from  their 
masters.  Still  carrying  Davis's  rifle  as  well  as  his  own,  our 
brave  young  friend  set  his  face  to  the  north.  He  had  only 
pushed  forward  for  a  mile  or  two,  when  he  discovered  approach 
ing  him,  an  Indian  warrior,  on  a  horse  with  a  bell  around  its 
neck,  and  a  boy  walking  by  his  side.  A  ready  wit  is  valuable 
anywhere.  McClure  dropped  one  of  his  rifles,  lest  it  excite 
suspicion,  and  boldly  advanced,  making  signs  of  peace.  The 
fellow  returned  them,  dismounted,  seated  himself  on  a  fallen 
tree,  and  producing  a  pipe,  drew  a  few  puffs,  then  handed  it, 
following  true  Indian  etiquette,  to  McClure. 

Just  then  another  tinkle  was  heard  in  the  forest,  followed 
by  quite  a  troop  of  gayly  attired  Indian  horsemen.  McClure's 
companion  now  informed  him  that  the  Indians  intended  to  tie 
him  on  a  horse,  and  carry  him  off  as  a  prisoner.  To  illustrate 
the  thing,  Mr.  Indian,  in  the  excess  of  his  politeness,  bestrode 
the  fallen  tree,  and  locked  his  feet  beneath.  As  the  dusky 
gentleman  twined  his  legs  about  the  log,  the  white  man  raised 
his  rifle,  and  shot  him  dead.  The  Indian  boy  jumped  on  the 
horse  and  rode  away.  McClure  ran  in  the  opposite  direction. 
A  lot  of  small  Indian  dogs  took  after  him,  harmless  in  them 
selves,  but  succeeding  in  tripping  him  up.  He  fell  several  times 
with  terrific  force,  but  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  ran  on,  until 
an  unlucky  fall  filled  his  eyes  with  dust. 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  423 

% 

Blinded  and  exhausted,  he  lay  still,  expecting  each  moment 
to  be  seized  by  savage  hands.  Several  minutes  passed.  No  foe 
more  formidable  than  the  snapping  dogs  appeared.  The  silence 
of  the  woods  was  unbroken  by  a  single  foot-fall.  His  path 
homeward  was  open.  Still  anxious,  but  inspired  with  hope,  he 
regained  his  feet,  and  again  commenced  the  journey  which 
brought  him  safely  to  his  Kentucky  cabin. 

A  WIDOW'S  CABIN. 

The  homely  name  of  "Widow  Scraggs"  has  survived  the 
death  of  its  obscure  bearer  only  by  reason  of  her  fate.  Her 
home  was  an  isolated  cabin  in  Bourbon  County,  Kentucky. 
The  structure  contained  two  rooms,  separated  by  a  porch 
or  passage-way,  which  was  covered  by  the  same  roof  as  the 
rooms.  In  summer  months  on  this  porch  was  spread  the  frugal 
meal  of  the  widow's  family.  In  winter,  but  little  use  was  made 
of  it  except  for  piles  of  firewood.  One  room  was  occupied  by 
the  old  lady,  two  grown  sons,  a  widowed  daughter  and  her 
infant  child.  The  other  room  was  used  by  two  unmarried 
daughters,  one  twenty  years  old,  the  other  just  blooming  with 
all  the  blushing  beauty  of  sweet  sixteen,  a  girl  living  with  the 
family,  and  the  children. 

It  was  twelve  o'clock,  on  the  night  of  April  11,  1787. 
In  one  room  the  elder  daughter  was  still  spinning  flax  at  the 
old-fashioned  spinning-wheel;  in  the  other,  one  of  the  young 
men  still  busied  himself  with  the  humble  task  of  cobbling  his 
shoes  by  the  flickering  firelight.  The  remainder  of  the  family 
were  asleep.  From  time  to  time,  the  young  cobbler  raised  his 
head,  nnd,  with  awl  arrested  in  mid-air,  seemed  to  listen  with 
anxiety  to  some  sounds  in  the  forest,  which  now  and  then  dis 
turbed  the  silence  of  the  cabin. 

These  noises,  to  the  ordinary  listener,  were  no  reason  for  the 
apparent  apprehensions  of  the  young  man.  They  were  but  the 
hooting  of  owls  and  the  restless  neighing  of  a  couple  of  horses  in 
the  barnyard.  The  young  spinner  in  the  other  room  seemed  not 


424  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

* 

to  notice  them.  Probably  the  noise  of  the  spinning-wheel  or 
the  preoccupation  of  her  mind  explained  this.  The  shoes  were 
almost  mended,  when  a  footfall  was  heard  from  the  porch,  fol 
lowed  by  a  knock  on  the  door.  "  Who  keeps  house  ?"  the 
person  knocking  inquired  in  good  English.  The  young  man, 
supposing  it  to  be  some  belated  settler,  rose  to  unbar  the  door. 
At  that  moment  his  mother,  roused  by  the  unusual  disturbance, 
screamed,  "  Keep  the  door  shut!  They  are  Indians!" 

The  other  young  man,  till  then  asleep,  sprang  from  his  bed, 
and  the  two  prepared  for  defense.  The  Indians,  of  whose  char 
acter  there  could  now  be  no  doubt,  set  up  terrific  yells,  and 
attempted  to  batter  down  the  heavy  door.  A  shot  from  a  port 
hole  in  the  cabin  caused  them  to  fall  back  quickly,  only  to  dis 
cover  the  door  to  the  other  room,  in  which  were  the  three 
defenseless  girls.  This  door  was  out  of  range  of  the  rifles  of 
the  young  men.  The  fence  supplied  the  savages  with  heavy 
rails.  Using  these  as  battering  rams  against  the  door,  the 
savages  filled  the  air  with  wild  yells  and  discordant  clamor, 
mingled  with  the  heavy  thuds  of  the  rams,  and  the  sharp  sound 
of  splitting  wood  and  breaking  hinges  as  the  door  began  to 
give  way. 

At  last  the  frail  defense  fell  inward,  and  the  savages  leaped 
with  exultant  cries  toward  the  frightened  girls.  The  eldest, 
pale  and  desperate,  braced  herself  against  the  door,  but  a  savage 
hand  and  arm,  thrust  through  a  breach,  buried  a  knife  in  her 
back.  The  second  girl  was  captured  without  a  struggle.  The 
youngest  one,  in  the  uproar,  slipped  under  a  bed,  and  out  of 
the  door.  Instead  of  escaping,  however,  the  little  girl  ran  to 
the  door  of  the  other  room,  screaming  that  her  sisters  were 
murdered.  The  young  men  were  about  to  attempt  her  rescue, 
when  the  mother  firmly  interposed,  declaring  that  she  must  be 
left  to  her  fate,  as  to  open  the  door  would  be  the  death  of  all. 
At  that  moment  a  piercing  scream  announced  that  she  lived  no 
longer. 

But  a  new  horror  was  at  hand.     The  room  filled  with  smoke, 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  427 

the  crackling  of  flames  was  heard.  The  dreadful  truth  was 
plain.  The  cabin  had  been  fired.  The  inmates  were  forced  to 
flight.  Their  plans  were  quickly  made.  The  door  was  flung 
open.  The  widow,  supported  by  her  eldest  son,  ran  in  one 
direction ;  the  daughter,  with  her  child  and  the  younger  son,  ran 
in  another  direction.  The  mounting  flames  lighted  up  the  yard 
with  the  brightness  of  day.  The  widow  was  shot  as  she  reached 
the  fence  ;  her  son,  by  strange  fortune,  escaped.  The  other 
party  also  reached  the  fence,  but  were  attacked  in  the  act  of 
crossing,  by  several  Indians. 

The  younger  brother,  careless  of  his  own  safety,  and  seek 
ing  only  that  his  sister  and  her  child  might  have  time  for  escape, 
fought  with  all  the  fury  of  despair  and  the  sublime  courage 
which  is  inspired  by  a  consciousness  of  self-sacrifice.  He  had 
placed  one  foot  on  the  fence.  A  spring,  and  he  would  have 
been  over.  Instead,  he  withdrew  his  foot.  He  resolved  to 
remain  on  the  side  where  he  was.  The  foremost  Indian  he  shot 
dead.  Then,  with  clubbed  musket,  he  beat  back  his  swarming 
foes,  till  his  sister  and  her  child  were  well  out  of  the  way. 

But  the  unequal  contest  ended.  Wounded  unto  death,  he 
fell  into  the  fence  corner,  where  the  ground  was  stained  with 
the  ebbing  life  tide.  Four  members  of  the  family  had  been 
killed  on  the  spot  and  one,  the  second  daughter,  taken  prisoner. 
The  fugitives  carried  the  dark  tidings  to  their  neighbors.  There 
were  hurried  preparations,  eager  inquiries,  and  dreadful  male 
dictions  among  the  settlers.  By  morning,  a  company  of  thirty 
men  was  raised  for  pursuit.  They  tracked  the  foe  easily  through 
the  light  snow.  The  latter,  finding  themselves  hard  pressed, 
tomahawked  the  young  girl,  taken  captive.  While  the  main 
band  fled,  two  of  their  number  posted  themselves  on  a  woody 
ridge,  where,  by  terrific  yells  and  incessant  darting  among  the 
trees,  they  deluded  the  whites  into  thinking  that  a  large  force 
of  Indians  occupied  the  hill.  Such  is  heroism — to  die  for 
others.  The  two  dusky  braves  suffered  death  to  aid  their 
friends'  escape. 


428  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

A  TYPICAL  HEROINE. 

John  Merril  was  a  white  settler  in  Nelson  County,  Kentucky. 
One  night,  about  the  time  of  the  last  incident,  he  and  his  wife 
had  retired  to  bed.  The  glow  of  coals  from  the  fire-place  alone 
illuminated  the  rude  apartment,  and  the  loud  tick  of  an  old- 
fashioned  clock  measured  off  the  flight  of  time,  while  the  sleep 
ers  dreamed  of  other  days.  Suddenly  the  dogs  without  the 
cabin  set  up  a.  furious  barking.  Mr.  Merril,  but  half  awake, 
rose  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  As  he  opened  the  door,  he 
was  shot  dead,  receiving  seven  bullets  in  his  body.  His  wife 
sprang  forward,  and  closed  and  barred  the  door,  which  the 
Indians  at  once  began  to  chop  down  with  their  tomahawks.  A 
breach  was  soon  effected.  But  Mrs.  Merril  was  of  great  strength 
and  invincible  courage.  Her  hard  life  on  the  frontier  had  done 
much  to  prepare  her  for  this  crisis.  As  the  Indians  sought  to 
enter  the  breach,  the  daring  woman,  with  fearful  exertion,  suc 
cessively  killed  or  disabled  four  of  the  enemy. 

Foiled  in  this,  the  savages  climbed  on  the  roof  and  commenced 
to  descend  the  chimney.  Again  the  courage  and  address  of  the 
solitary  woman  confronted  them.  Snatching  up  a  feather-bed, 
she  flung  it  on  the  fire.  In  a  moment  the  volumes  of  flame 
and  stifling  smoke  overcame  two  of  the  Indians,  who  fell  help 
lessly  down  into  the  fire.  Seizing  an  ax,  the  now  widowed 
woman  quickly  dispatched  them,  and  then,  with  a  quick  side 
stroke,  inflicted  a  fearful  gash  upon  the  head  of  the  last  sav 
age,  who  was  again  attempting  an  entrance  by  the  breach.  This 
fellow  escaped.  The  story  of  the  immense  strength  and  valor 
of  the  "long  knife  squaw"  agitated  many  a  barbarous  audience 
in  the  wigwams  of  his  tribe. 

THE  SUFFERINGS  OF  MASSY  HARBISON. 

Two  hundred  yards  from  Reed's  block-house,  which  was 
itself  about  twenty-five  miles  from  Pittsburgh,  stood,  in  the  year 
1792,  the  rude  cabin  of  an  Indian  fighter,  named  Harbison.  At 
sunrise,  one  morning,  while  Harbison  was  absent  on  a  scout, 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  429 

the  horn  sounded  at  the  block-house.  Not  thinking  the  bugle 
blast  a  danger  signal,  Mrs.  Harbison  fell  asleep  again.  Dream 
ing  of  trouble,  she  awoke,  to  find  a  huge  savage  dragging  her 
from  the  bed  by  her  foot,  and  the  house  swarming  with  Indians. 
After  ransacking  the  house,  they  forced  her  to  come  along  with 
them.  She  carried  in  her  arms  her  infant  child,  and  led  by  the 
hand  her  little  boy  of  five  years. 

There  was  yet  a  third  child,  three  years  old.  For  the  little 
fellow  the  mother  had  no  hand.  To  relieve  her  of  this  embar 
rassment,  an  Indian  took  him  by  the  feet,  whirled  him  through 
the  air,  and  brained  him  against  the  cabin  wall.  To  relate  these 
details  is  sickening,  the  mother  fainted  at  the  awful  sight. 
For  this  the  murderers  had  a  cure.  It  deserves  the  attention 
of  medical  men.  In  her  story  the  mother  describes  it.  "  The 
savages  gave  me  a  blow  across  my  head  and  face,  and  brought 
me  to  sight  and  recollection  again." 

With  this  delicate  attention  the  procession  marched  on.  In 
a  few  minutes  the  path  led  down  a  steep  hill.  The  little  five- 
year-old  boy  fell.  It  hurt  him.  He  was  but  a  child.  With 
uplifted  voice  and  face  filled  with  liquid  grief,  he  sought  conso 
lation  from  the  mother's  heart,  which  had  never  failed.  As  she 
put  forth  her  hand  in  gentle  caresses,  such  as  only  a  mother 
can  give,  her  arm  was  seized  and  she  was  jerked  back.  Instead 
of  the  soft  maternal  touch,  an  Indian's  hand  seized  the  little  fel 
low.  His  crying  was  stopped  forever.  The  toy  which  quieted 
him  was  a  tomahawk.  Her  babe  alone  was  left  to  the  mother. 

All  day  she  marched  with  her  captors.  At  night,  they 
spread  a  blanket  on  the  ground,  and,  tying  her  hand  and  foot, 
said  "  Go  sleep."  Two  Indians  lay  down  on  each  side  of  the 
poor  woman.  The  next  day  the  march  was  continued.  This 
day  she  had  food.  It  was  a  piece  of  dried  venison,  "about  the 
bulk  of  an  egg."  One  of  the  Indians  went  away  for  a  few 
hours.  In  his  absence  another  savage  busied  himself  with 
making  a  small  hoop.  At  first  the  captive  watched  him  with 
languid  curiosity.  Then,  full  of  wretchedness,  she  turnei 


430  INDTAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

head  to  look  upward  into  the  waving  foliage  of  the  forest,  and 
the  vast  illimitable  sky-dome.  When  her  eyes  fell  on  the  sav 
age  again,  he  had  something  in  his  hand.  A  flash  of  horror- 
struck  recognition  flickered  in  the  woman's  eyes.  It  was  the 
scalp  of  her  boy.  The  savage  was  stretching  it  on  the  hoop. 

The  second  night  was  passed  like  the  first.  Towards  morn 
ing  one  Indian  rose  and  left  the  camp.  The  wakeful  mother 
managed  to  slip  loose  from  her  bonds.  With  a  step,  noiseless  as 
a  spirit,  she  fled  with  her  babe  in  arms  on  and  on,  pausing  not  to 
look  behind,  breathless,  frantic,  "over  rocks,  precipices,  thorns, 
and  briers,  with  bare  feet  and  legs,"  as  she  says  pathetically. 

She  was  a  pioneer  woman,  the  wife  of  a  scout.  At  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  she  could  no  longer  keep  up  her  flight. 
She  waited.  At  night,  when  the  north  star  appeared,  she 
marked  out  the  course  for  the  next  day.  Long  before  sunrise 
she  was  on  her  way,  resting  not.  It  rained  all  day.  She  had 
no  food  for  herself  or  child.  Yet  she  bravely  pushed  on.  At 
dark  she  made  a  bed  of  leaves  in  the  forest.  The  child  was 
hungry.  The  little  creature  wept  aloud.  "Fearful  of  the  con 
sequences,"  writes  the  mother,  "  I  put  him  to  my  breast,  and  he 
became  quiet.  I  then  listened,  and  distinctly  heard  footsteps. 
The  ground  over  which  I  had  traveled  was  soft,  and  my  foot 
prints  had  been  followed. 

"  Greatly  alarmed,  I  looked  about  for  a  place  of  safety,  and 
providentially  discovered  a  large  tree  which  had  fallen,  into  the 
top  of  which  I  crept.  The  darkness  greatly  assisted  me,  and 
prevented  detection.  The  savage  who  followed  me  had  heard 
the  cry  of  the  child,  and  came  to  the  very  spot  where  it  had 
cried,  and  there  he  halted,  put  down  his  gun,  and  was  at  this 
time  so  near  that  I  heard  the  wiping-stick  strike  against  his  gun 
distinctly.  My  getting  in  under  the  tree  and  sheltering  myself 
from  the  rain,  and  pressing  my  boy  to  my  bosom,  got  him  warm, 
and,  most  providentially,  he  fell  asleep,  and  lay  very  still  dur 
ing  that  time  of  extreme  danger.  All  was  still  and  quiet;  the 
was  listening^tcr  hear  the  cry  again.  My  own  heart  was 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  433 

the  only  thing  I  feared,  and  that  beat  so  loud  that  I  was  appre 
hensive  it  would  betray  me. 

"  After  the  savage  had  stood  and  listened  with  nearly  the 
stillness  of  death  for  two  hours,  the  sound  of  a  bell  and  a  cry 
like  that  of  a  night-owl,  signals  which  were  given  to  him  by 
his  companions,  induced  him  to  answer,  and  after  he  had  given 
a  most  horrid  yell,  he  started  off  to  join  them.  After  his  retreat, 
I  concluded  it  unsafe  to  remain  there  till  morning. 

"  But  by  this  time  nature  was  so  nearly  exhausted  that  I 
found  some  difficulty  in  moving ;  yet,  compelled  by  necessity, 
I  threw  my  coat  about  my  child  and  placed  the  end  between 
my  teeth,  and  with  one  arm  and  my  teeth  I  carried  him,  and 
with  the  other  groped  my  way  between  the  trees  and  traveled 
on,  as  I  supposed,  a  mile  or  two,  and  there  sat  down  at  the 
root  of  a  tree  till  morning.  The  night  was  cold  and  wet,  and 
thus  terminated  the  fourth  day  and  night's  difficulties,  trials, 
and  dangers  ! " 

After  two  days  more  of  incredible  suffering,  the  unfortunate 
woman  made  her  way  to  a  settlement.  So  changed  was  she  by 
the  six  days  of  hardship,  that  her  nearest  neighbor  failed  to 
recognize  her.  "  Two  of  the  females,  Sarah  Carter  and  Mary 
Ann  Crozier,  took  out  the  thorns  from  my  feet  and  legs,  which 
Mr.  Felix  Negley  stood  by  and  counted,  to  the  number  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty,  though  they  were  not  all  extracted  at 
that  time,  for  the  next  evening  there  were  many  more  taken 
out.  The  flesh  was  mangled  dreadfully,  and  the  skin  and  flesh 
were  hanging  in  pieces  on  my  feet  and  legs.  The  wounds  were 
not  healed  for  a  considerable  time.  Some  of  the  thorns  went 
through  my  feet  and  came  out  at  the  top." 

Thus  the  pioneers  of  the  Ohio  valley  endured  for  the  sake 
of  the  hope  which  was  set  before  them.  Forty  years  they  wan 
dered  in  the  wilderness  that  their  children  might  enter  into  and 
possess  the  land  of  promise.  What  honor  is  due  them  by  the 
thoughtless  thousands  who  eat  the  fruit  of  their  toil!  Yet  the 
shores  of  the  Ohio  contain  no  monument  to  their  memory! 

24 


434  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

MOREDOCK'S  REVENGE. 

Nature  is  full  of  compensations,  of  balances.  Light  and 
darkness  ;  heat  and  cold ;  love  and  hate  ;  positive  and  negative ; 
more  and  less — these  are  but  a  few  instances  of  a  law  running 
through  the  universe.  Indian  massacres  made  Indian  fighters. 
In  the  shadow  of  the  murderer  skulks  the  avenger.  There  was 
a  woman  named  Moredock,  who  lived  about  1793,  at  Vincennes, 
Indiana,  the  oldest  and,  historically,  the  richest  town  in  the 
State.  She  had  had  several  husbands,  all  of  whom  had  fallen 
victims  of  Indian  hostility.  She  had  lived  for  twenty  years  on 
the  extreme  frontier.  Husbands,  children,  neighbors,  all  these 
she  had  seen  slain  by  the  red  destroyers.  Yet  with  calm  heart, 
stony  face,  and  tearless  eye,  she  faced  the  danger.  She  did 
more.  She  resolved  to  move  farther  west,  that  her  boys  might 
have  a  chance  to  grow  up  with  the  country. 

The  party  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  voyagers,  of  which  she 
and  her  family  were  members,  journeyed  easily  down  the  Ohio 
and  up  the  Mississippi.  One  noon  they  went  ashore  at  what 
is  Grand  Tower,  to  tow  the  boats  around  a  high  cliff,  by  which 
the  foaming  river  rushed  with  furious  current.  It  was  their 
last  landing  before  reaching  their  destination.  Every  one  was 
cheered  at  the  happy  prospect.  At  that  moment  a  dark  and 
dreadful  band  of  warriors  burst  upon  the  little  company.  The 
surprise  was  too  great,  the  force  too  overwhelming  for  the  emi 
grants  to  rally.  Only  one  man  escaped.  John  Moredock,  the 
widow's  son,  more  lucky  than  the  others,  hid  in  a  fissure  in 
the  rock.  When  the  murderers  left,  glutted  with  the  feast  of 
blood,  he  climbed  down  and  found  the  corpses  of  his  family 
and  friends.  He  buried  them.  Looking  out  over  the  majestic 
river,  he  lifted  his  hand  heavenward,  and  with  dark  and  rigid 
countenance,  hissed  out  between  clenched  teeth,  "  Before  God, 
I  will  have  revenge." 

That  night  the  lonely  youth  started  for  the  Kaskaskia  settle 
ments.  By  daylight  he  reached  them.  He  told  his  story.  Bold 
frontiersmen,  hardy  scouts,  appalled  by  the  extent  of  the  horror, 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO   VALLEY.  435 

inspired  by  the  suppressed  fury  of  Moredock,  vowed  to  help  him 
track  the  murderers.  The  flower  of  the  frontier  joined  the  expe 
dition.  They  set  out.  It  was  days  before  they  came  within 
reach  of  the  fleeing  murderers. 

At  last  they  were  discovered.  Their  camp  was  on  the 
banks  of  the  Missouri  River.  But  Moredock  refused  to  allow 
an  attack.  Why?  Did  his  heart  fail  him?  No.  Were  he  and 
his  companions,  after  all  their  tremendous  pursuit,  going  to  let 
the  Indians  escape?  Yes,  and  no.  Moredock's  determination 
was  to  kill  every  Indian  in  the  party.  Their  camp  was  so 
pitched  that  some  might  escape.  He  contained  himself.  Almost 
bursting  with  hatred,  he  was  as  calm  and  cool  as  a  marble 
statue.  He  said  to  his  men,  "We  will  wait."  For  several 
days  the  avengers  shadowed  the  band  of  warriors.  Their 
patience  was  inexhaustible;  their  pertinacity  tireless. 

At  last  they  were  rewarded.  At  last,  the  Indians,  uncon 
scious  of  danger,  stepped  into  a  trap.  They  encamped  on  a 
little  island  in  the  middle  of  the  Mississippi.  Moredock  said, 
"  We  have  them."  At  midnight  the  white  men  landed  on  the 
island.  They  were  as  noiseless  as  specters.  The  canoes  of  the 
Indians  were  floating  at  the  water's  edge.  These  were  cut 
adrift.  This  made  escape  for  tne  Indians  impossible.  More- 
dock  stepped  to  the  canoes  from  which  he  and  his  men  had  dis 
embarked.  With  a  face  of  cast-iron,  he  cut  them  adrift  also. 
What  did  this  mean  ?  It  meant  that  escape  for  the  white  men  was 
also  impossible.  "  We  will  fight  to  the  death !"  said  Moredock. 

The  struggle  which  followed  on  the  island  was  terrible. 
The  Indians,  surprised,  ran  to  their  canoes.  They  were  gone. 
With  a  howl  of  despair,  the  red  sons  of  the  forest  turned 
to  fight  to  the  death.  Out  of  thirty,  twenty-seven  were  slain. 
Was  not  Moredock's  revenge  complete  ?  No !  Three  had 
escaped,  by  swimming.  His  appetite  for  vengeance  was  unap- 
peased.  He  dismissed  his  friends  with  thanks.  They  returned 
to  their  settlements.  For  himself,  he  struck  out  into  the  wil 
derness.  For  two  years  he  followed  the  three  Indians  like 


436  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

shadows.  Across  mountains,  down  rivers,  over  prairies  he  pur 
sued  them,  day  and  night.  One  by  one  they  fell  before  the 
avenger. 

At  the  end  of  two  years  he  returned  to  Kaskaskia  with  their 
scalps.  His  revenge  was  complete.  He  settled  down.  He  was 
known  as  a  quiet,  peaceable  man,  strongly  domestic  in  his 
tastes.  This  was  his  true  character.  Such  men,  once  roused, 
make  the  deadliest  of  all  foes.  Moredock  lived  to  be  not  only 
a  respected,  but  a  leading,  citizen.  He  was  chosen  to  hold 
offices  of  honor  and  profit.  With  it  all,  he  spoke  but  seldom  of 
the  past.  Many  of  the  people  among  whom  he  lived  and  moved 
little  suspected  him  of  being  a  blood  avenger.  Yet  it  was  the 
case.  Such  is  our  ignorance  of  our  neighbors ! 

THE  WIZARD'S  PUNISHMENT. 

Early  in  this  century,  a  strange  Indian  appeared  in  a  white 
settlement,  near  what  is  now  the  capital  of  Ohio.  He  seemed 
to  be  continually  apprehensive  of  some  danger,  but  otherwise 
acted  as  any  Indian  of  the  better  sort.  Gradually  the  white 
men  won  his  confidence.  He  explained  why  he  was  always  so 
watchful  to  see  that  no  pursuer  was  after  him.  He  was  a  Wyan- 
dot.  His  tribe  had  taken  up  a  notion  that  he  was  guilty  of  witch 
craft.  His  life  was  in  peril.  He  fled  to  the  wilderness.  For 
a  long  time  he  had  eluded  them.  But  his  tribe  ceased  not  to 
pursue  him  with  undying  malignity.  He  was  growing  old. 
He  needed  a  more  settled  habitation  as  he  advanced  in  years. 
He  had  thrown  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  the  white  man,  his 
father's  foe. 

One  June  morning  he  was  sitting  in  a  chair  in  his  cabin. 
Suddenly  a  band  of  Wyandots  entered  the  room.  They  had 
tracked  him  to  his  retreat.  He  made  no  effort  to  escape.  With 
calm  disdain  and  unruffled  courage,  he  submitted  quietly  to  be 
bound  and  carried  away.  The  settlers  asked  his  captors  what 
it  meant.  With  dark  and  bigoted  looks  they  replied  that  he 
was  a  bad  Indian,  that  he  had  caused  horses,  dogs,  and  even  the 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  437 

people  of  his  tribe  to  fall  sick.  For  this  crime  he  must  die. 
The  settlers  labored  to  convince  them  that  their  captive  had  no 
power  to  achieve  such  wonders.  To  this  the  savages  obsti 
nately  shook  their  heads.  The  white  men  exhausted  their 
powers  of  argument  and  persuasion.  The  victim  could  only  be 
saved  by  force  of  arms.  This  was  out  of  the  question.  The 
band  of  savages  greatly  outnumbered  the  population  of  the 
settlement. 

Finding  that  he  must  die,  the  suspected  wizard  asked  that 
he  might  be  arrayed  in  his  finest  clothes  and  ornaments.  Gor 
geously  decked  out  in  his  gay  trappings  of  silver,  gold,  and 
scarlet  cloth,  he  took  his  place  in  a  ring,  and  asked  that 
a  paper,  which  he  handed  them,  be  read  aloud,  and  then 
fastened  to  a  tree.  It  was  done.  The  document  was  only  a 
recommendation  from  a  prominent  settler.  With  much  emotion 
he  bade  farewell  to  his  white  friends,  and  then  obediently  took 
up  his  march  to  a  lonely  wood,  chanting  the  while  the  Indian 
death-song.  Arriving  at  his  destination,  he  was  made  to  kneel 
before  a  shallow  grave.  His  relentless  executioners  formed  a 
circle  about  him.  There  was  a  pause.  Then  a  young  warrior 
stepped  briskly  forward.  His  uplifted  tomahawk  glittered  for 
a  moment  in  the  light  of  the  afternoon  sun,  then  sank  to  the 
heft  in  the  skull  of  the  victim. 

Herein  Indian  haters  may  find  a  text.  The  barbarism,  the 
cruelty,  the  blood-thirstiness,  the  ignorance,  the  superstition  of 
the  savage  !  Softly,  friend,  if  you  please.  Yonder,  on  the 
stormy  New  England  coast,  sits  an  old  town,  with  its  single 
street  and  its  queer  old  houses,  which  look  as  if  they  were 
haunted.  In  the  town  museum  you  may  see  the  wooden  pegs 
which  witnesses  swore  had  been  suddenly  and  mysteriously 
thrust  into  the  flesh  of  tender  babes,  without  any  visible 
agency,  except  it.  was  through  the  black  art  of  the  culprit  at 
the  bar.  Near  by  is  Witches'.  Hill,  where  innocent  women  and 
men  were  executed,  under  sentences  rendered  on  just  such  tes 
timony.  Not  ignorant  savages  were  the  witnesses,  the  jury, 


438  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  judge,  the  approving  crowd;  but  intelligent,  educated, 
New  England  Puritans,  from  whom  is  said  to  flow  the  best 
blood  in  America.  When  we  remember  the  Reign  of  Supersti 
tion  in  Salem,  when  we  open  to  the  black  pages  of  the  witch 
craft  persecutions,  let  us  withhold  our  obloquy  from  the 
wretched  Indian. 

Why  do  we  look  with  such  intense  aversion,  such  anger,  such 
disgust  upon  these  crimes,  which  were  committed  in  the  name 
of  justice  ?  It  is  because  it  is  a  part  of  this  age  to  abhor  super 
stition.  We  know  that  the  poison  flower  sheds  a  fatal  perfume. 
We  see  that  nothing  so  enervates  the  intellect,  corrupts  charac 
ter,  and  demoralizes  society  as  this  denial  of  the  laws  of  cause 
and  effect,  this  belief  in  a  lie,  which  we  call  superstition.  We 
hate  it.  But  the  place  for  us  to  attack  superstition  is  right 
here  and  now,  and  not  in  the  past.  There  are  historical  reasons 
for  the  witchcraft  persecutions  of  New  England.  There  are 
reasons,  too  obvious  to  be  named,  for  the  rank  superstition  of 
the  Indians.  Those  reasons  do  not  exist  for  us.  Let  us  tear 
from  our  hearts  every  cherished  bit  of  superstition.  Let  us  not 
merely  not  believe  in  witches.  Let  us  also  trample  under  our 
feet  every  vague  belief  in  table-tipping  spirits,  in  luck,  in  good 
and  bad  omens,  in  fortune-telling,  in  the  infallibility  of  the 
past.  This  is  our  work.  But  it  is  not  our  work  to  abuse 
the  Indians  or  the  Salemites,  or  any  other  people  under  heaven 
because  they  believe  or  believed  in  superstitions  at  which  we 
smile  with  scorn. 

Let  us  pause.  This  chapter  and  others,  both  before  and 
after  it,  deals  with  the  massacres,  the  bloodshed,  the  midnight 
surprises,  the  deadly  combats,  the  decoys,  the  ambushes  of  the 
Indian  wars  in  the  Ohio  valley.  These  terrible  records  cover  a 
period  of  twenty  years,  from  1774  to  1794.  During  all  that 
time  the  frontier  was  a  line  of  battle. 

The  history  of  the  time  is  a  history  of  murders,  of  cruelties, 
of  tortures.  It  recites  the  slaughter  of  children,  the  tomahawk 
ing  of  women,  the  burning  alive  of  men.  It  recites  captivities,. 


THE  CONFLICT  IN  THE  OHIO  VALLEY.  441 

starvations,  and  wanderings.  It  tells  of  ruined  homes,  of  deso 
lated  lives,  of  suffering  hearts.  The  midnight  sky  is  forever  red 
with  the  glare  of  blazing  cabins ;  the  forest  is  forever  filled  with 
blood  avengers;  yelling  Indians  are  forever  battering  down  the 
doors  of  lonely  dwellings.  Little  bands  of  devoted  pioneers  are 
constantly  being  shut  up  to  starve  in  block-houses.  Strong  men, 
brave  women,  and  tender  girls  are  alike  ever  running  the  gaunt 
let  of  the  encircling  foes,  to  secure  food,  ammunition,  and  relief. 
Lion-hearted  men,  maddened  by  the  outrages,  the  murders,  the 
cruelties  of  the  foe,  are  giving  up  their  farms,  their  settlements, 
to  roam  the  forests  with  the  dark  occupation  of  the  Indian  scout. 
This  is  but  another  name  for  Indian  killer. 

Young  men,  snatched  away  when  children  from  the  arms  of 
agonized  mothers,  and  reared  in  the  squalid  wigwams  of  the 
savage,  remembering  not  the  loving  parents  who  bore  them,  but 
knowing  only  their  filthy  and  ignorant  captors,  are  ever  return 
ing,  when  they  reach  years  of  maturity,  to  the  habitation  of 
the  white  man.  They'  feel  themselves  strangely  moved.  Faint 
memories  of  their  real  parents  are  pictured  on  their  minds. 
They  forever  search,  without  success,  to  find  that  early  home, 
and  carry  with  them  through  life  a  dull  sorrow  in  the  heart. 
All  this,  and  much  more,  enters  into  the  story  of  the  time. 
Seated  in  our  comfortable  homes,  we  read  this  history.  The 
Indian  hater  says,  "I  told  you  so."  Their  baseness,  their  bru 
tality,  their  wickedness  made  and  makes  it  just  that  the  red 
men  should  be  destroyed  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Let  us  take  a  wider  view.  Let  us  turn  from  the  silent  for 
ests,  the  majestic  rivers,  the  unpopulated  landscapes  of  the  wil 
derness  during  the  years  of  this  war,  to  the  sunny  cities  of 
France,  with  their  cathedrals  and  palaces,  with  their  gay  nobil 
ity,  their  thronging  populations,  their  courts,  their  literature, 
their  civilization.  View  them  as  they  were  during  these  same 
years  which  the  wild  Indians  of  the  west  marked  out  upon  the 
historic  calendar  with  the  emblems  of  death  and  destruction. 
Need  we  to  be  reminded  that  these  very  years  were  the  years 


442  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

of  the  French  Revolution;  that  at  the  very  time  when  a  few 
half  starved  Indians  were  attacking  some  cabin  in  the  beautiful 
valley,  infuriated  thousands  were  thronging  through  the  streets 
of  Paris,  crying  "Bread  or  Blood?" 

The  past  rises  before  us.  The  red  panorama  of  the  Revolu 
tion,  with  its  sacked  cities,  its  burning  chateaux,  its  wild  orgies 
of  massacre,  its  streams  of  blood,  its  guillotine  blades  rising  and 
falling  with  the  regularity  of  heart  beats,  severing  the  heads  of 
the  bravest,  the  tenderest,  the  noblest,  the  loveliest,  the  truest 
sons  and  daughters  of  France,  all  these  move  in  lurid  procession 
before  our  startled  eyes.  Mirabeau,  Danton,  Robespierre,  rise 
before  us  now  terrible  phantoms,  but  once,  more  terrible  reali 
ties.  Charlotte  Corday,  the  peasant  girl,  leaving  her  rural  home, 
seeking  admittance  to  Marat's  chamber,  thrusting  the  dagger  into 
his  guilty  heart,  and  then  calmly  waiting  for  her  own  execution, 
which  came  so  soon;  the  awful  tan-yard,  where  the  skins  of  the 
guillotine's  victims  were  transformed  into  a  "fine  soft  leather, 
which  made  excellent  breeches ;"  the  Hall  of  the  Jacobins ;  the 
procession  of  black  tumbrils  winding  daily  through  the  streets 
of  Paris,  bearing  poets,  nobles,  statesmen,  even  the  silly  king 
and  the  sorrowful  queen,  to  the  place  of  public  execution ;  these 
are  but  a  few  of  the  flame-lit  scenes  of  the  Reign  of  Terror. 

Yet  all  this  was  civilization,  progress,  political  birth-throes, 
the  regeneration  of  the  French,  the  richest,  the  gayest,  the  most 
brilliant,  the  most  highly  civilized  people  of  Europe.  How 
much  worse  was  the  '92  of  the  Ohio  valley  than  the  '93  of 
France  ?  Upon  the  surface,  the  savages  of  the  Revolution  were 
blacker,  bloodier,  than  the  red  men  of  America.  The  Philosophy 
of  History  steps  in,  and  laying  her  hand  alike  upon  the  raging 
madmen  of  France  and  the  untutored  savages  of  America,  says 
to  us,  JUDGE  NOT  ! 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL. 


443 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL. 

HERE  were  not  a  half  dozen  white  men's  cabins 
in  the  Ohio  valley  when  an  honest  Dutchman 
named  John  Wetzel  located  with  the  Zanes,  at 
Wheeling.  He  was  no  Indian  fighter.  He 
roamed  the  woods  without  caution,  and  in  1787 
was  murdered  by  the  savages,  without  a  strug 
gle.  Peaceful  as  he  was,  his  cabin  was  a  nest 
of  thunderbolts.  Of  five  boys,  every  one  was 
a  famous  Indian  fighter. 

Martin  Wetzel,  the  oldest  son,  was  taken  prisoner  by  Indians. 
His  cheerful  adaptation  of  himself  to  circumstances  disarmed 
suspicion  among  his  captors.  But  his  mind  was  full  of  plans 
for  a  tragic  revenge  and  escape.  The  fall  hunt  was  undertaken 
by  him  with  three  Indians.  Their  camp  was  pitched  near  the 
headwaters  of  the  Sandusky.  One  evening,  when  two  miles 
from  the  camp,  he  met  one  of  his  Indian  companions.  When 
the  other's  attention  was  called  in  another  direction,  Wetzel 
brained  him  with  his  tomahawk.  The  body  was  thrown  in  a 
hole,  and  carefully  covered  with  earth  and  leaves.  Hastening 
to  the  camp,  Wetzel  commenced  cooking  supper,  when  the  other 
two  Indians  came  in.  He  expressed  surprise  at  the  absence  of 
their  missing  companion,  but  they  said  he  had  probably  gone  on 
a  longer  hunt  than  usual. 

That  night  Wetzel  could  not  sleep.  In  his  heated  brain  he 
revolved  many  plans  for  completing  the  tragedy.  He  wavered 
between  attacking  them  while  asleep  and  waiting  for  an  oppor- 


444  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

tunity  to  dispatch  them  separately.  Though  consumed  with  the 
fever  of  excitement,  he  chose  the  latter  as  the  surer  plan.  When 
the  Indians  started  out  for  their  day's  hunt  the  next  morning, 
Wetzel  resolved  to  follow  one.  All  day  he  shadowed  him. 
Towards  evening  Wetzel  walked  up  to  him  openly,  and  com 
menced  a  conversation  with  him  about  the  day's  hunt.  The 
Indian,  completely  off*  his  guard,  turned  to  look  at  a  flock  of 
birds.  With  a  lightning  stroke  of  his  terrible  tomahawk, 
Wetzel  killed  him.  This  body  also  he  buried,  and  then  hur 
ried  to  the  camp. 

At  sunset  Wetzel  saw  the  third  Indian  coming  heavily 
loaded  with  game.  The  captive  went  out  to  meet  him,  under 
pretense  of  relieving  him  of  a  part  of  his  load.  As  the  hunter 
stooped  down  to  allow  Wetzel  to  lift  off  a  part  of  the  pack> 
the  latter  for  a  third  time  swung  his  tomahawk,  and  a  third 
time  stretched  his  foe  forever  upon  the  ground.  Wetzel,  safe 
from  pursuit,  began  and  successfully  accomplished  the  return  to 
his  home. 

Similar  incidents  might  be  related  of  each  of  the  Wetzels. 
Their  figures,  as  outlined  on  the  red  panorama  of  border  war 
fare,  stand  out  in  striking  contrast  with  those  of  every  other 
pioneer  family.  There  seemed  to  run  in  their  veins  the  blood 
of  banditti.  Yet  their  desperate  deeds  were  all  performed  in 
the  interests  of  the  settlers.  For  themselves  they  cared  noth 
ing.  They  were  a  tower  of  defense  against  Indian  invasion. 

Of  this  strange  group  of  brothers,  Lewis  Wetzel,  the  young 
est  of  the  five,  surpassed  the  rest  by  his  exploits  as  much  as 
they  surpassed  all  the  other  settlers  of  the  valley.  His  first 
recorded  exploit  took  place  in  1776,  when  he  was  thirteen  years 
of  age.  He  and  his  brother  Jacob  were  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  house,  playing  near  the  barn,  when  Lewis  saw  a  gun-barrel 
sticking  out  from  the  corner  of  the  barn.  He  jumped  back  at 
the  same  instant,  but  received  a  painful  wound  in  his  breast 
bone.  Escape  was  impossible. 

The   Indians  having  taken  the  two  boys  prisoner,  began  a 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL.  445 

hasty  retreat.  They  crossed  the  Ohio,  and  headed  for  their 
wigwams  on  the  Muskingum.  Lewis  suffered  greatly  from  his 
wound  during  the  toilsome  journey,  but  refrained  from  com 
plaint,  knowing  that  the  Indian  cure  for  his  wound  would  be 
the  tomahawk.  The  first  night  the  boys  were  tied.  The  sec 
ond  night  the  captors  gorged  their  stomachs  with  the  single 
meal  of  the  day,  and,  thinking  the  boys  too  far  away  from  home 
to  attempt  an  escape,  left  them  untied.  When  the  noble  red 
men  were  snoring  loudly,  Lewis  arose,  and  pretending  to  fix  the 
fire,  made  sure  that  all  were  sleeping  heavily.  Rousing  his 
brother  Jacob,  he  told  him  they  must  go.  Jacob  was  frightened, 
but  Lewis  urged  him  out  into  the  woods.  The  younger  boy  then 
slipped  back,  secured  two  pair  of  moccasins  and  his  father's  gun. 

The  runaways  moved  on  rapidly  through  the  pitchy  dark 
ness  of  the  forest  for  two  hours.  Then  the  quick  ear  of  Lewis 
heard  a  noise.  Drawing  his  brother  into  a  clump  of  bushes, 
they  lay  still  till  their  pursuers  passed  them.  Shortly  they 
came  out  from  their  hiding-place,  and  pushed  on  boldly  in  the 
rear  of  the  Indians.  At  last  they  discovered  that  the  Indians 
were  coming  back.  Again  the  boys  hid,  this  time  in  a  hollow 
tree,  and  again  eluded  the  enemy.  Their  journey  to  the  Ohio 
was  not  interrupted  further.  The  river  the  little  fellows 
crossed  on  a  raft  of  their  own  construction,  and  they  reached 
home  in  safety. 

Another  story  of  Wetzel's  youth  associates  him  with  the 
famous  Lydia  Boggs.  She  was  a  young  girl  in  Wheeling,  and, 
unlike  Elizabeth  Zane,  of  the  same  place,  who  had  been  brought 
up  in  the  best  young  ladies'  schools  of  Philadelphia,  and  was 
rather  aristocratic  and  reserved,  Miss  Lydia  was  a  regular 
daughter  of  the  frontier.  She  roamed  the  woods,  climbed  trees, 
engaged  in  jumping  and  shooting  matches,  and  thought  nothing 
of  swimming  the  Ohio.  She  was  a  great  favorite  in  the  settle 
ment.  She  lived  until  1867,  and  furnished  much  of  the  infor 
mation  on  which  the  books  of  border  warfare  were  based. 

On  the  occasion  in  question,  Miss  Lydia  had  crossed  in   a 


446  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

canoe  to  an  island  in  the  Ohio.  Just  as  she  landed  an  Indian, 
plumed  and  painted,  rushed  at  her  with  uplifted  tomahawk. 
The  girl  dropped  to  her  knees,  and  begged  for  mercy.  But 
instead  of  striking  her,  the  savage  broke  into  a  loud  laugh,  and 
exclaimed  in  good  English :  "  Why,  do  n't  you  know  me,  Lydia  ?" 
It  was  the  mischievous  Lewis  Wetzel,  just  returning  in  Indian 
disguise  from  a  scout.  He  had  stopped  to  eat  some  wild  rasp 
berries,  which  were  ripening  on  the  island.  The  two  young 
folks  took  the  canoe,  and  Lewis  went  home  with  the  light- 
hearted  girl  to  supper. 

The  tragic,  however,  excluded  the  romantic  element  in  Wet 
zel.  In  1782,  one  of  Crawford's  men,  having  made  his  escape 
after  the  great  defeat,  left  his  horse  ten  miles  below  Wheeling, 
and  persuaded  Wetzel  to  go  back  with  him  for  it.  The  trip  was 
made.  The  horse  was  found  standing  tied  to  a  tree.  Wetzel  at 
once  saw  the  snare,  and  tried  to  hold  his  companion  back.  It 
was  too  late.  The  man  was  shot  as  he  placed  his  hand  on  the 
bridle.  Wetzel  at  once  fled,  pursued  by  four  fleet  Indians. 

At  the  end  of  a  half  mile,  Wetzel  stopped  short,  wheeled, 
and  shot  the  foremost  Indian,  and  then  ran  on.  From  boyhood 
he  had  practiced  the  art  of  loading  as  he  ran.  Again  he  turned 
to  shoot,  but  the  pursuer  sprang  forward  and  caught  the  barrel. 
Wetzel  had  no  time  for  a  prolonged  contest.  In  one  minute  the 
other  two  Indians  would  be  upon  him.  By  a  desperate  effort 
he  wrenched  the  gun  loose,  and  shot  his  opponent  through  the 
neck.  The  third  Indian  was  killed  in  the  same  way  after  a  fur 
ther  chase,  whereupon  the  fourth  one  fled  into  the  forest. 

The  settlers  at  Wheeling  were  justly  alarmed  by  the  signs 
of  unusual  Indian  activity  in  1782,  before  the  second  siege  of 
Fort  Henry  actually  took  place.  Some  little  distance  away  was 
a  cave,  from  which  had  been  heard  several  times  one  morning, 
the  gobble-gobble-gobble  of  wild  turkeys.  This  was  a  favorite 
decoy  sound  of  the  Indians.  They  could  imitate  a  turkey  call 
so  that  it  would  deceive  the  very  elect.  Wetzel  was  convinced 
that  there  was  a  redskin  in  the  cavern.  Making  a  long  detour 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL.  447 

in  the  grass,  he  reached  a  point  from  which  he  could  observe 
the  mouth  of  the  cave.  After  a  patient  wait,  he  saw  a  red 
figure  slowly  emerge  from  the  cavern,  straighten  itself  lip,  and 
give  forth  a  gobble  as  natural  as  life.  Then  the  figure  disap 
peared.  It  was  but  a  few  moments  till  the  savage  again 
appeared  to  re-enact  the  little  part,  in  which  he  took  great  satis 
faction.  He  inflated  his  lungs,  and  puckered  his  lips,  but  just  as 
the  first  note  of  that  gobble  was  sounded,  the  crack  of  Wetzel's 
rifle  ended  it  and  all  other  gobbles  from  that  savage  forever. 

About  1786  the  red  man  became  a  little  too  festive  in  the 
vicinity  of  Wheeling.  The  settlers  clubbed  together,  made  up 
a  purse  of  one  hundred  dollars,  and  offered  it  to  the  first  man 
who  should  bring  in  an  Indian  scalp.  This  offer  greatly  excited 
the  borderers.  They  justly  considered  themselves  engaged  in 
a  constant  war  with  the  Indians,  and  one  scalp  more  or  less, 
one  wigwam  without  its  owner,  one  squaw  mourning  over  the 
corpse  of  her  lord,  what  difference  could  it  make  ?  On  the  other 
hand,  one  hundred  dollars  was  a  fortune. 

To  make  sure  of  securing  the  prize,  a  company  of  twenty 
Indian  fighters  was  raised,  each  man  to  receive  four  dollars  of 
the  blood  money,  and  the  actual  murderer  and  scalp-taker  to 
receive  twenty  dollars.  Lewis  Wetzel  joined  this  party.  They 
moved  rapidly  and  secretly  toward  the  Muskingum.  A  scout 
of  five  men  was  detailed  to  hunt  up  the  red  man.  The  chase 
was  discovered,  but  the  numbers  of  the  savages  were  so  over 
whelming  that,  instead  of  making  an  attack,  the  brave  scalp- 
takers  determined  to  retreat  to  the  settlements  as  rapidly  as 
they  came.  Wetzel  said  nothing,  but  scowled  sarcastically  at 
the  men.  When  the  word  came  to  march,  he  coolly  sat  down 
and  refused  to  budge.  They  argued  with  him,  persuaded,  and 
expostulated  over  his  stubborn  fool-hardiness.  "  Go  on,  you 
fools.  I  came  out  to  fight  Indians.  I  'm  not  going  to  run 
home  with  my  finger  in  my  mouth  !"  jerked  out  this  aesthetic 
and  gentle  young  fellow.  His  great,  rugged  nature  was  inca 
pable  of  fear. 


448  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

So  his  companions  marched  off,  leaving  Lewis  leaning 
against  a  tree,  utterly  indifferent  to  their  movements.  The 
situation  which  he  confronted  so  calmly  was  full  of  sudden  and 
secret  dangers.  He  was  near  the  Indian  villages,  a  long  ways 
from  any  white  settlements.  The  very  forest  around  him  was 
traversed  by  red  men  incessantly  in  their  hunts.  Not  ten  feet 
from  him  were  the  white  ashes  of  an  Indian  camp-fire  which 
had  not  been  cold  a  dozen  hours. 

When  his  friends  disappeared  from  view,  Wetzel's  whole  man 
ner  underwent  a  change.  From  an  air  of  indifference  and  scorn, 
he  suddenly  changed  to  one  of  intense  vigilance.  Moving  noise 
lessly  from  tree  to  tree  through  the  darkest  depths  of  the  wav 
ing  forest,  not  a  decaying  log,  with  its  velvet  upholstering  of 
emerald  mosses,  not  a  shadow  which  fell  across  his  path  darker 
than  the  unbroken  shades  of  the  place  itself  escaped  his  careful 
and  suspicious  scrutiny.  His  piercing  eye  scanned  every  clump 
of  bushes,  and  every  hollow  tree.  Walking  on  with  gun  cocked 
and  ready  for  instant  use,  now  he  leaped  lightly  over  gigantic 
piles  of  fallen  timber,  huge  trunks  of  trees,  prostrated  by  some 
tempest  and  interlaced  in  inextricable  confusion,  now  he  crawled 
skillfully  through  thorny  underbrush,  and  now  waded,  neck 
deep,  up  the  channel  of  some  stream. 

For  hours  he  continued  in  this  way,  but  not  an  Indian  was 
discovered.  At  last  the  greenish  gloom  of  the  forest  began 
to  change  to  a  somber  yellow.  The  air  became  damp  and  chilly. 
It  was  the  approach  of  night.  In  a  sheltered  ravine,  Wetzel 
selected  a  spot  behind  some  fallen  trees,  and  dug  a  small  hole. 
In  the  bottom  of  this  he  built  a  little  fire,  covering  it  loosely 
with  leaves  and  earth.  He  was  cold.  Seating  himself  on  the 
ground,  and  encircling  the  hole  with  his  legs,  he  covered  him 
self  with  his  blanket.  This  arrangement  would  not  discover 
him  to  any  wandering  savages,  and  yet  was,  said  he,  "as 
warm  as  a  store-room."  When  thoroughly  warm,  he  took  out 
some  dried  venison  and  parched  corn,  and  ate  his  supper.  A 
drink  from  a  neighboring  spring  quenched  his  thirst.  Spreading 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL.  449 

some  branches  on  the  ground,  he  lay  down  close  behind  the 
sheltering  log,  and  amid  the  twitter  and  bickerings  of  innumer 
able  birds,  the  hum  of  insects,  and  howls  of  invisible  animals, 
he  quickly  fell  asleep. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  Wetzel  suddenly  came 
across  an  empty  camp.  Two  blankets  and  a  kettle  taught  him 
that  its  occupants  were  two  Indians,  who  would  return  from 
their  hunt  at  night.  He  was  patient.  He  concealed  himself 
near  by.  At  nightfall  the  two  redskins  came  in.  They  cooked 
a  savory  supper.  The  odor  from  the  roasting  venison  was 
wafted  to  the  hungry  Wetzel.  He  intended  to  wait  till  they 
slept.  But  these  two  citizens  of  the  forest  were  in  high  humor. 
Hour  after  hour  they  laughed  and  joked  in  their  unintelligible 
jargon,  and  making  the  forest  ring  with  their  merriment.  At 
last  one  seized  a  flaming  brand  and  started  into  the  forest. 

It  was  a  tableau.  Through  the  black  darkness  moved  with 
silent  tread  this  strange  figure,  on  which  fell  the  ruddy  light 
from  the  glowing  ember.  Was  it  some  deed  of  vengeance  or 
some  act  of  worship  which  impelled  the  torch-bearer  on  into  the 
night  ?  The  red  coal  danced  in  and  out  among  the  trees,  grow 
ing  fainter  and  fainter.  At  last  it  disappeared  from  view  alto 
gether.  Wetzel  turned.  The  calm,  regular  snore  of  the  remain 
ing  savage  told  plainly  of  his  slumber.  It  was  but  a  moment's 
work  for  the  wakeful  foe  to  steal  forward,  and,  with  one  knife- 
stroke,  plunge  the  Indian  into  a  sleep  which  knew  no  waking, 
seize  the  coveted  scalp,  and  quickly  commence  the  homeward 
trip.  In  two  days  Wetzel  delivered  his  trophy  at  Wheeling, 
and  with  untroubled  conscience  received  the  blood-money. 

If  Wetzel  needed  any  further  influence  to  develop  him  into 
a  professional  Indian  fighter,  it  came  in  the  murder  of  his 
peaceful  old  father  in  1787.  The  honest  German,  while  in  his 
canoe  on  the  Ohio,  was  fired  at  from  the  shore  and  killed. 
From  this  time  Lewis  Wetzel  roamed  the  woods  incessantly  in 
quest  of  savages.  To  kill  Indians  became  the  trade  of  himself 
and  his  brothers.  One  exploit  alone  served  to  render  him 


450  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

famous  as  the  most  terrible  scout  in  the  Ohio  valley.  He  was 
out  on  a  lone  hunt,  and  came  across  a  camp  of  four  Indians, 
all  asleep.  Three  of  them  he  dispatched,  only  the  fourth 
escaping. 

On  another  occasion  he  was  out  one  night  in  a  terrible 
storm.  He  happened  to  be  near  a  deserted  cabin.  Toward  this 
he  made  for  shelter.  Always  cautious,  instead  of  throwing 
himself  down  on  the  floor,  he  arranged  some  boards  in  a  sort  of 
loft  to  sleep.  The  tempest  exerted  its  utmost  fury  upon  the 
lonely  hovel.  The  floods  of  rain  beat  in  at  the  open  door  and 
the  shutterless  window.  A  bolt  of  lightning  shivered  a  tree 
near  by.  Yet  the  uproar  of  the  elements  was  defied  by  Wetzel, 
who  felt  snug  enough  on  his  boards.  He  had  not  yet  fallen 
asleep,  when  he  heard  rapid  footsteps  splashing  through  the 
rain.  They  came  toward  the  cabin.  He  listened. 

In  a  moment  some  person  entered  the  hut.  Presently 
another  dashed  in,  and  another  and  another.  Wetzel  at  once 
recognized  them  from  their  voices  as  Indians.  The  new-comers 
struck  a  light  and  built  a  fire.  Wetzel  saw  six  stalwart  saA^- 
ages  within  arm's  length  beneath  him.  If  they  looked  up  and 
discovered  the  object  in  the  loft,  Wetzel  determined  to  jump 
down  in  their  midst,  stab  one  or  two,  and  try  to  escape.  The 
new-comers  spitted  their  meat,  and  prepared  and  ate  a  hearty 
meal  without  once  lifting  their  eyes  to  the  spot  where  Wetzel 
lay,  braced  for  a  spring,  and  holding  his  glittering  knife  in  hand. 
Not  a  movement  dared  he  to  make.  His  breath  seemed  to  him 
like  the  wind  rushing  in  and  out  of  a  mighty  cavern. 

The  meal  ended,  the  dusky  company  stretched  themselves 
out  on  the  floor  and  slept.  With  a  skill  attained  only  by  the 
most  expert  scouts,  the  white  hunter  climbed  down  from  his 
rickety  boards,  without  making  a  sound,  stept  swiftly  to  the 
door  and  away.  The  rain  had  ceased.  Pattering  drops  fell 
from  the  wind-shaken  branches  of  the  trees,  but  the  floods  no 
longer  descended.  Wetzel  suddenly  stopped  short  in  his  flight. 
A  hundred  feet  from  the  cabin  was  a  thicket.  In  that  he  hid 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL.  451 

himself.  At  sunrise  there  was  a  stir  in  the  cabin.  A  huge 
Indian  rose  and  came  to  the  door.  He  was  yet  half-asleep,  and 
rubbing  his  eyes  with  his  fingers.  He  was  in  full  view  of  Wet- 
zel.  The  latter  fired  with  fatal  effect,  and  then  fled. 

The  qualities  of  the  imaginary  hero  which  excite  the  admi 
ration  of  the  American  school-boy  as  he  furtively  reads  some 
wretched  border  romance,  and  which  existed  in  reality  in  Lewis 
Wetzel,  also  excited  the  love  and  admiration  of  the  pioneers 
and  border  settlers  of  the  Ohio  valley.  Judging  him  by  our 
standards,  Wetzel  was  a  murderer.  But  this  is  by  no  means 
the  rule  of  judgment.  It  is  the  cheapest  sort  of  moralizing  for 
a  pert  historian  to  erect  for  himself  a  throne  of  judgment, 
and  measuring  men,  customs,  and  institutions  of  the  remote 
past,  condemn  them  as  wicked  and  criminal.  Conscience  has 
only  two  monitions  to  men.  "  Do  right,"  and  "  avoid  wrong." 
But  the  great  problem  of  what  particular  things  are  right,  and 
what  particular  things  are  wrong,  is  one  which  conscience  does 
not  solve.  It  is  a  matter  of  reason,  intelligence,  civilization, 
and  progress.  It  is  a  question  to  which  every  age  has  given 
different  answers.  What  was  yesterday  the  highest  virtue, 
to-day  is  regarded  as  the  blackest  crime.  What  the  last  age 
considered  an  unpardonable  sin,  to-day  is  considered  to  be  harm 
less  and  innocent. 

Judging  him  as  an  individual,  in  the  light,  or  rather  the 
darkness,  of  his  age,  country,  religion,  and  institutions — in  short, 
by  his  civilization — there  is  every  reason  to  think  that  there 
may  have  been  as  much  virtue  in  the  Hindoo  holding  his  out 
stretched  arm  upward  for  twenty  years,  until  it  became  a  rigid 
and  fleshless  bone,  as  in  the  more  enlightened  Christian  customs 
of  to-day.  The  Bible  itself  is  the  best  of  all  illustrations  of  the 
change  which  takes  place  in  the  notion  of  what  is  right  and 
what  is  wrong.  The  Old  Testament  repeatedly  asserts  that 
burnt  offerings  of  animals  were  pleasing  to  the  Lord  and  atoned 
for  sin.  The  New  Testament  explicitly  denies  that  the  Almighty 
delights  in  such  offerings.  An  eye  for  an  eye,  is  the  morality 

25 


452  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

of  Moses.  Render  unto  no  man  evil  for  evil,  is  the  teaching 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 

Clearly,  then,  we  have  no  business  to  judge  Lewis  Wetzel, 
or  any  other  border  hero,  or  even  the  Indian  himself,  by  any 
other  standard  of  morality  than  that  which  existed  in  the 
time  and  place  in  which  he  lived.  The  pioneers  loved  Wet 
zel.  He  was  their  favorite  friend  and  hero.  They  regarded 
him  as  both  great  and  good.  That  verdict  we  must  accept. 
Judged  by  that  standard  to  which  he  is  justly  entitled,  he  was 
a  hero.  To  call  him  a  murderer,  or  a  desperado,  is  unfair  and 
untruthful. 

General  Harmar  was  the  commander  of  the  troops  in  the 
Ohio  valley.  His  head-quarters  were  Fort  Harmar,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Muskingum,  where  Marietta  now  stands.  The  Indian 
question  gave  the  United  States  Government  great  anxiety. 
Washington  and  his  contemporaries  gave  it  great  thought. 

As  a  part  of  their  policy,  efforts  were  made  in  1787  and 
1788  to  make  treaties  of  peace  with  the  Indians.  These  efforts 
were  looked  on  by  the  settlers  with  great  chagrin.  They  had 
been  bearing  the  brunt  of  a  bloody  war  for  fourteen  years. 
Every  treaty  of  peace  which  had  been  negotiated  in  all  that 
time  had  proved  to  be  a  delusion  and  a  snare.  It  had  served 
simply  to  disarm  the  frontier,  and  prepare  the  way  for  Indian 
surprises  and  massacres.  For  their  part,  the  settlers  wanted 
the  government  to  destroy  the  war-power  of  the  Indians.  How 
ever,  the  flags  of  truce,  the  belts  of  wampum,  and  the  pipes  of 
peace  whiph  messengers  had  carried  among  the  tribes  of  Ohio, 
Indiana,  and  Illinois,  resulted  on  January  9,  1789,  in  a  very 
large  assemblage  of  Indians  in  a  camp  at  Fort  Harmar,  to  meet 
General  Harmar  and  arrange  for  a  treaty. 

Wetzel,  sharing  the  contempt  of  the  settlers  for  such  pro 
ceeding,  took  a  companion  and  repaired  to  the  neighborhood  of 
Fort  Harmar.  To  him,  of  course,  the  killing  of  an  Indian  was 
as  the  killing  of  a  wolf.  The  red  men  had  occasion  to  pass  and 
repass  from  their  camp  to  the  fort.  Wetzel  hid  himself  near 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL.  453 

this  path.  A  large  and  powerful  Indian  appeared  on  horseback. 
The  white  man  fired.  The  savage  kept  his  seat  and  rode  rap 
idly  to  his  camp.  But  the  wound  had  been  fatal.  In  attempt 
ing  to  dismount,  he  fell  dead  in  the  arms  of  his  dusky  friends. 

Wetzel  and  his  companion  at  once  made  a  rapid  retreat, 
before  the  swarms  of  Indians  were  alarmed  into  pursuit.  •  When 
the  incident  was  told  at  the  fort,  General  Harmar  was  hot  with 
indignation.  Such  an  outrage,  committed  just  when  a  treaty 
of  peace  was  being  made,  and  upon  Indians  who  had  assembled 
under  guaranties  of  good  faith,  was  a  wicked  crime.  Protesting 
his  indignation  to  the  reproachful  chieftans,  he  ordered  Lewis 
Wetzel,  who,  for  some  reason  was  at  once  suspected  to  be  the 
murderer,  to  be  taken  alive  or  dead. 

A  detachment  of  men  under  Captain  Kingsbury,  was  ordered 
to  execute  this  command.  They  marched  at  once  to  the  Mingo 
Bottoms,  where  Wetzel  was  known  to  live.  The  rough  bor 
derers,  however,  were  ugly  customers.  Great  shaggy  fellows, 
thoroughly  used  to  fighting,  caring  nothing  for  discipline,  and 
believing  only  in  that  crude  and  irregular  thing  known  as  bor 
der  justice,  they  were  the  last  men  in  the  world  from  whom 
their  leader  could  be  taken  peaceably.  When  they  learned  of 
Kingsbury 's  approach,  their  rage  and  fury  knew  no  bounds. 

They  prepared  an  ambuscade  for  the  massacre  of  Kings- 
bury's  entire  party.  Among  them,  however,  was  a  Major 
McMahan.  Thoroughly  understanding  their  temper,  he  per 
suaded  the  infuriated  border-men  to  let  him  first  try  the  effect 
of  an  interview  with  Kingsbury.  This  was  sullenly  agreed  to. 
McMahan  hastened  to  meet  the  commander.  He  warned  him 
that  the  notions  of  the  frontiersmen  concerning  the  killing  of 
Indians  were  vastly  different  from  those  of  General  Harmar; 
that  the  settlers  approved  of  Wetzel's  act,  and  that  any  further 
attempt  to  arrest  Wetzel  would  bring  the  entire  country  upon 
him,  and  result  in  the  certain  destruction  of  himself  and  his 
command.  Kingsbury  listened.  He  saw  the  point.  In  five 
minutes  he  commenced  a  retreat. 


454  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Wetzel  was  a  restless  fellow.  He  determined  on  a  lone  hunt 
in  Kentucky.  Packing  his  canoe  with  provision,  the  great  bor 
derer  started  down  the  Ohio,  supposing  the  little  affair  with 
Harmar  was  fully  adjusted.  Near  Fort  Harmar,  on  an  island, 
lived  one  of  Wetzel's  friends,  named  Carr.  The  custom  of  the 
lonely  frontier  made  it  a  matter  of  great  importance  that  Wetzel 
should  stop  over  with  his  friend.  Such  visits  broke  the  monot 
onous  solitude  of  the  life.  They  were  looked  forward  to,  as 
well  as  remembered,  for  months  by  host  and  guest  alike. 

The  joy  of  meeting  on  such  occasions  might  well  put  to 
shame  the  hollow  ceremonies  of  welcome  with  which  we  .of  a 
later  day  receive  our  friends.  The  husband,  wife,  and  children 
in  one  of  these  lonely  cabins  knew  no  higher  pleasure  than 
to  receive  and  entertain  a  friend.  The  best  cheer  the  cabin 
afforded  was  furnished  with  lavish  hand.  Rare  liquor,  carefully 
hoarded  for  such  occasions,  coffee,  sugar,  and  all  those,  to -us, 
common  articles,  which  constituted  the  dainties  and  delicacies 
of  the  pioneer  cabin,  were  brought  forth  from  the  bottom  of 
mighty  chests.  A  few  pieces  of  porcelain  ware,  a  silver  spoon 
or  two,  an  old  china  sugar-bowl,  a  linen  table-cloth,  all  these 
treasures,  relics  of  other  days,  were  carefully  set  out  in  gay 
parade  in  honor  of  the  guest. 

Wetzel  remained  over  night  with  his  friend  Carr.  About 
midnight,  however,  a  force  of  men  might  have  been  seen  silently 
putting  out  from  Fort  Harmar  in  a  fleet  of  canoes.  They 
directed  their  course  to  Carr's  island.  They  landed  at  a  point 
farthest  removed  from  the  cabin.  With  still  and  stealthy  step 
they  stole  towards  the  cabin.  By  some  means  they  effected  an 
entrance.  Wetzel  was  made  a  prisoner  before  he  could  leave 
his  bed.  He  was  bound  hand  and  foot,  swiftly  carried  to  a 
boat,  transported  to  the  fort,  heavily  manacled  with  iron  fetters, 
and  thrown  into  a  guard  room. 

Picture  to  yourself  a  caged  eagle.  Now,  maddened  with 
fury  at  his  restraint,  he  dashed  himself  in  frantic  frenzy  against 
the  imprisoning  bars.  Now,  beaten  back,  bruised  and  bleeding. 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL.  455 

he  sinks  in  exhaustion  upon  the  floor,  still  quivering  with  the 
violence  of  his  passion.  Now  he  stands  and  looks  out  with 
unutterable  melancholy  into  the  blue  expanse,  whither  his  soar 
ing  spirit  burns  to  mount  on  majestic  pinion.  As  he  gazes 
upward  he  presses  toward  the  bars.  His  wings  expand;  he 
has  forgotten  his  narrow  prison.  He  is  about  to  fly.  Just 
then  the  prison  wall  catches  his  attention.  The  wings  droop. 
His  imperious  eye  blazes  with  the  fires  of  rage  and  scorn.  His 
unconquerable  spirit,  baffled  in  its  infinite  yearnings  for  freedom, 
yet  lifts  him  far  above  his  captors.  He  spurns  their  kindness. 
He  refuses  their  attentions.  Imprisoned,  broken-hearted,  to  all 
outward  appearances  crushed,  he  yet  maintains  his  lofty  pride, 
and  from  his  lowly  prison  looks  down  with  indescribable  scorn 
upon  his  brutal  keepers.  As  Napoleon  on  the  lonely  rock  of 
St.  Helena,  as  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  in  the  English  jail,  the 
monarch,  though  dethroned,  is  monarch  still. 

Such  was  Wetzel  in  captivity,  the  man,  who  of  all  men, 
prompted  by  the  tremendous  bent  of  his  own  wild  nature,  had 
led  a  life  of  the  most  unrestrained  liberty  and  the  wildest  free- 
•doin.  "Let  me  not  live  longer,  strangled  and  suffocated  by 
these  choking  prison  walls,"  said  he  to  General  Harmar.  "  I 
have  lived  like  a  man,  let  me  die  like  one.  Let  the  Indians 
form  a  circle.  Place  me  in  the  center,  with  no  weapon  but  my 
knife,  and  let  us  fight  it  out  till  I  am  gone."  There  in  the  cell 
of  that  frontier  fort  the  brave  but  illiterate  borderer,  who  had 
devoted  his  life  to  rescuing  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Ohio 
from  the  hands  of  barbarous  savages,  unwittingly  re-echoed  the 
sentiment  of  the  great  Virginia  orator  before  the  senate,  "Give 
me  liberty,  or  give  me  death." 

It  proved  to  be  liberty.  General  Harmar,  strongly  impressed 
by  the  rugged  courage  of  Wetzel,  arid  his  fierce  love  of  freedom, 
ordered  his  guards  to  remove  the  fetters  from  his  limbs,  leaving 
on  the  handcuffs,  and  take  him  out  each  day  for  a  walk  i$  the 
open  air.  Once  outside  the  fort,  Wetzel  began  to  run,  jump, 
and  caper  around  his  guards,  as  if  overjoyed  at  his  freedom. 


456 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


When  they  would  turn  to  pursue  him,  he  would  stop,  and  laugh 
ingly  return.  Each  time  he  ran  a  little  further,  but  returned 
quietly,  until  his  guards,  refusing  to  be  teased  longer,  quit  pur- 


WETZEL'S  ESCAPE  FROM  THE  GUARDS. 

suing  him.     At  this  moment  Wetzel  summoned  all  his  strength, 
and  with  a  bound,  disappeared  in  the  forest. 

Four  days  they  searched  for  him.  Once  two  of  his  pursuers 
sat  upon  the  very  log  in  which  he  lay  concealed.  His  object 
was  to  cross  the  Ohio.  With  the  fetters  still  on  his  wrists  he 
could  neither  build  a  raft  nor  swim.  Every  point  on  the  river, 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL.  457 

where  he  could  have  procured  a  canoe,  was  guarded.  Making 
his  way  to  a  spot  opposite  the  cabin  of  a  settler  named  Wise 
man,  with  whom  he  was  acquainted,  he  succeeded  in  attracting 
his  friend's  attention.  The  latter  brought  him  across  under 
cover  of  night.  A  file  removed  the  handcuffs. 

Once  on  the  Virginia  side  Wetzel  felt  safe.  Every  cabin 
contained  warm  and  true-hearted  friends,  who  would  willingly 
shed  their  blood  in  his  defense.  Borrowing  a  gun  and  blanket, 
Wetzel  again  set  out  for  his  Kentucky  hunt.  At  Point  Pleas 
ant  Wetzel  went  ashore.  He  was  here  some  days  among  his 
friends,  when  one  day  he  met  Captain  Kingsbury  on  the  street. 
This  gentleman  had,  been  stationed  there  without  Wetzel's 
knowing  it.  Both  men  were  startled  at  the  meeting.  After  a 
moment's  gaze,  Wetzel  slowly  and  cautiously  backed  away 
without  being  molested. 

Lewis  again  embarked  on  the  Ohio  for  his  trip  to  Ken 
tucky,  this  time  accomplishing  the  undertaking.  Here  he 
passed  his  life  in  the  wild,  free  manner  which  he  had  chosen 
for  his  own.  Long  hunts,  Indian  scouts,  shooting  matches, 
fiddle  playing,  foot-racing,  wrestling — these  were  his  occupa 
tions.  His  head-quarters  were  at  Washington,  now  Mason 
County,  Kentucky. 

General  Harmar,  meanwhile,  had  moved  his  head-quarters 
to  Fort  Washington,  on  the  site  of  which  is  now  Cincinnati. 
Learning  that  Wetzel  was  in  Kentucky,  he  offered  a  large 
reward  for  his  capture.  No  one,  however,  seemed  willing  to 
attempt  it.  Wetzel,  meanwhile,  took  no  pains  to  conceal  him 
self.  One  evening  a  detachment  of  soldiers,  who  were  descend 
ing  the  Ohio,  landed  at  Maysville  for  rest  and  refreshment. 
One  or  two  of  the  company  strolled  into  a  tavern,  and  discov 
ered  Wetzel  sitting  on  a  bench  in  the  bar-room.  At  this  time  he 
was  about  twenty-six  years  old.  He  was  ^omewhat  less  than 
six  feet  in  height,  but  of  immense  breadth  across  the  shoulders, 
and  possessing  arms  and  limbs  of  immense  size  and  prodigious 
muscular  development.  His  skin  was  dark,  his  face  deeply 


458  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

marked  by  small-pox.  His  jet-black  eyes  were  as  piercing  as 
dagger-points.  The  most  remarkable  thing,  however,  about  the 
appearance  of  this  modern  Samson  was  his  hair.  It  was  coal- 
black,  and  when  combed  out  reached  to  the  calves  of  his  legs. 
He  was  exceedingly  careful  of  his  hair,  and  wore  it  braided  and 
knotted  about  his  shoulders. 

Wetzel  apprehended  no  danger.  The  soldiers  left  the  tavern 
carelessly.  Once  outside,  they  hurried  to  rally  the  entire  com 
pany  for  his  capture.  One  by  one  they  sauntered  into  the 
bar-room.  Still  Wetzel  sat  unconcernedly  playing  on  a  fiddle. 
Suddenly,  at  a  preconcerted  signal,  twenty  men  jumped  on  him. 
He  was  again  a  prisoner. 

When  the  news  spread  through  the  valley  that  Wetzel  was 
a  prisoner  at  Cincinnati,  and  was  to  be  tried  for  his  life  for  the 
murder  of  the  Indian  at  Fort  Harmar,  the  frontiersmen  from  far 
and  near  cursed  the  government  which  so  little  understood 
Indian  warfare.  They  did  more.  A  conspiracy  was  laid  for 
the  rescue  of  Wetzel  and  the  massacre  of  the  garrison  at  Cin 
cinnati.  Petitions  poured  in  upon  General  Harmar  for  his 
release.  A  scout  who  had  just  been  through  Kentucky, 
reported  to  Harmar  that  the  frontiersmen  would  wipe  the  set 
tlement,  (fort,  and  troops  from  the  face  of  the  earth  unless 
Wetzel  was  liberated.  At  this  point  Wetzel's  friends  procured 
a  writ  of  habeas  corpus,  to  be  issued  from  the  bench  of  the 
young  court  of  Ohio.  Through  this  great  defender  of  personal 
liberty  Wetzel's  release  was  procured. 

The  grounds  of  the  release  are  not  before  us.  We  can 
easily  see  what  they  may  or  must  have  been.  The  murder  of 
the  Indian  was  a  civil  offense,  and  it  is  more  than  doubtful 
whether  a  military  court  could  lawfully  exercise  any  jurisdiction 
in  the  matter.  There  was  no  indictment  or  information  against 
Wetzel,  and  no  warrant  for  his  arrest  other  than  the  order  of 
General  Harmar.  There  was  no  evidence  at  hand  to  prove  that 
he  had  committed  the  murder,  for  the  deed  was  without  wit 
nesses,  and  it  was  unlawful  to  force  Wetzel  to  criminate  himself. 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL.  459 

So  he  went  free.     His  rough  companions  celebrated  his  libera 
tion  with  a  supper  and  jollification. 

At  every  step  Wetzei  met  with  adventures.  Returning  to 
West  Virginia,  he  accepted  an  invitation  to  visit  a  young  man 
residing  on  Dunkard's  Creek.  When  he  and  his  friend  reached 
the  spot  where  should  have  stood  the  cabin  home  of  the  host, 
they  found  only  a  heap  of  smoking  embers.  Wetzei  made  a 
hurried  examination  of  the  ground,  and  reported  that  the  depre 
dation  had  been  committed  by  three  savages  and  what  seemed 
to  be  a  white  companion ;  that  they  had  a  prisoner,  a  young 
woman,  with  them,  and  that  they  had  retreated  toward  the 
Ohio.  The  captive  was  none  other  than  the  young  man's  sweet 
heart  and  betrothed.  Love  lent  wings  to  the  stricken  man,  and 
Wetzei  was  the  comrade,  of  all  others,  to  render  his  friend 
invaluable  assistance  in  such  a  crisis. 

Instant  pursuit  was  begun.  The  trail  had  been  carefully 
concealed,  but  Wetzei  confidently  pushed  on  to  the  Ohio.  Rest 
ing  only  a  few  hours  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  they  galloped 
on  for  two  days.  They  were  in  a  quiet  valley,  surrounded  by 
velvety  hills.  Wetzel's  keen  eye  caught  sight  of  something 
which  caused  him  to  rein  in  sharply.  It  was  the  print  of  the 
heel  of  a  little  shoe.  Traveling  thirty-six  hours,  without  sight 
of  the  trail,  he  had  here  recovered  the  clue.  Pressing  on  eagerly 
they  at  last  discovered  the  savages  lolling  about  their  camp-fire. 
In  their  midst  sat  the  girl,  her  eyes  swollen  with  weeping  and 
her  face  filled  with  unutterable  distress.  At  the  sight  the  fran 
tic  lover  well-nigh  ruined  all  by  his  impulsiveness.  Controlling 
him  with  difficulty,  Wetzei  instructed  him  to  take  careful  aim 
at  one  savage  while  he  fired  at  another.  At  the  fire  the  tAvo 
savages  were  killed.  While  the  lover  leaped  in  to  rescue  the 
girl,  the  other  two  of  her  captors  took  to  the  forest  with  Wetzei 
in  pursuit,  nor  did  he  relinquish  it  until  both  Indians  fell,  mor 
tally  wounded. 

As  the  Indian  wars  of  the  Ohio  valley  gradually  approached 
their  end,  Wetzei,  unfitted  for  any  settled  mode  of  life,  and, 


400  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

perhaps,  tired  at  the  prospect  of  a  monotonous  peace,  planned 
for  himself  an  expedition  to  the  far  South.  Once  in  New 
Orleans,  our  brave  Indian  fighter,  like  many  another  child  of 
the  backwoods,  seems  to  have  succeeded,  without  loss  of  time, 
in  forming  intimate  associations  with  the  worst  kind  of  ruffians, 
which  formed  a  large  part  of  the  population  of  the  Crescent 
City.  He  managed,  in  short  order,  to  get  himself  thrown  into 
a  Spanish  prison,  on  the  charge  of  making  counterfeit  money. 
Another  .charge  made  against  him  was  an  amour  with  the  wife 
of  some  Spaniard. 

For  two  years  he  occupied  a  dark  stone  dungeon,  loaded 
with  heavy  irons.  Through  the  intervention  of  the  United 
States,  he  was  at  last  set  at  liberty  and  sent  back  to  his  old 
home  at  Wheeling.  He  remained  only  a  few  days.  Then  with 
darkened  brow  and  fearful  imprecations,  this  long-haired  son 
of  thunder,  started  back  to  the  South  to  avenge  himself,  as  he 
said,  on  a  Spaniard  named  Anelota.  His  trip  was  made.  Months 
afterwards  he  again  appeared  in  Wheeling.  What  bloody  deed 
of  vengeance  he  had  wrought,  no  one  knew. 

These  meager  fragments  of  the  tale  of  this  imprisonment  in 
a  Spanish  dungeon,  of  the  story  of  a  Spanish  amour,  of  hoards 
of  ill-gotten  and  unlawful  money,  of  an  enemy  who  had  thrown 
his  toils  about  him  and  involved  him  in  a  fearful  confinement, 
of  the  journey  for  revenge  to  the  passionate  South,  of  the  dark 
curtain  of  mystery  and  impenetrable  reserve  with  which  Wetzel 
covered  the  past,  are  all  that  have  come  down  to  us.  Yet  they 
would  furnish  some  American  Dumas  the  clue  to  a  romance 
which  would  rival  those  of  the  illustrious  French  writer. 

Though  changed  in  personal  appearance  by  his  long  impris 
onment  in  the-  slimy  Bastile  of  the  South,  Wetzel  retained  his 
old  appetite  for  hunting,  and,  on  his  return  to  Wheeling,  seemed 
for  awhile  to  enjoy  as  in  bygone  years  his  tramps,  gun  in  hand, 
through  the  forests.  He  was  employed  by  surveyors  and  land 
speculators  to  aid  them  in  their  explorations,  and,  it  is  said,  even 
went  with  one  party  across  the  Rocky  Mountains. 


PARTY. 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  WETZEL.  463 

But  the  "valley"  was  no  longer  what  it.  had  been.  The 
wedding  procession,  making  its  way  in  joyous  freedom  through 
the  darkling  woods  that  skirted  the  stream,  was  no  more 
startled  from  its  loud  hilarity  by  the  sudden  burst  of  the  am 
buscade  by  the  river.  Very  rarely  was  a  straggling  Indian 
to  be  met  with.  The  game  was  rapidly  disappearing.  Set 
tled  farms  and  pleasant  cottages  were  taking  the  place  of 
the  decaying  stockades  and  dismantled  block-houses.  Sick 
at  heart,  Wetzel  went  south  for  the  last  time,  taking  up  his 
abode  near  Natchez.  He  lived  without  work,  and  died  in 
the  summer  of  1808,  being  then  forty-eight  years  old.  He 
never  married.  Being  questioned  on  the  subject  by  the 
wife  of  a  friend  whom  he  visited,  he  said,  "I  never  intend  to 
marry.  There  is  no  woman  on  this  earth  for  me,  but  I  expect 
there  is  one  for  me  in  heaven."  Lewis  Wetzel,  on  a  larger 
scale,  is  but  the  representative  of  a  host  of  brave  scouts  and 
Indian  fighters  who  took  part  with  himself  in  the  long  strug 
gles  of  the  Ohio  valley.  To  us,  he  is  a  desperado.  To  the 
settlers  of  that  day — he  was  a  hero. 


464  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


OHAPTEE  XIII. 

THE   COURAGE   OF  KENTON. 

AITHFUL,  rugged,  and  bold,  the  character  of 
Simon  Kenton  is  rarely  equaled  among  the 
pioneers  of  the  Ohio  valley.  He  was  by  birth 
a  Virginian,  born  in  1755,  the  long-remembered 
year  of  Braddock's  defeat.  He  was  reared  an 
ignorant  farm  boy.  The  doors  of  a  school- 
house  were  never  opened  to  him,  and  labor 
early  marked  him  for  her  child.  Beneath  the 
rough  youth's  exterior  throbbed  a  warm  and  affectionate  heart. 
In  the  neighborhood  of  Kenton's  home  lived  a  young  lady, 
whose  spirited  manners,  personal  charms,  and  coquettish  arts 
had  fascinated  many  a  less  susceptible  young  man  than  Kenton. 
The  maiden  of  the  frontier,  like  others  of  her  sex  in  gentler 
situations,  is  full  of  stratagems.  This  belle  of  the  border  pre 
tended  to  be  interested  in  Kenton,  who  was  but  sixteen  years 
old,  and  in  another  young  fellow  named  Leitchman,  some  years 
Kenton's  senior.  All  her  ingenuity  was  exerted  to  bring  about  a 
conflict  between  these  two  suitors.  She  succeeded.  Kenton  sent 
a  challenge  to  his  rival.  He  repaired  to  the  appointed  spot  alone, 
and  was  surprised  to  find  Leitchman  accompanied  by  a  number 
of  his  friends,  who  at  once  assailed  him  with  a  volley  of  insults. 
Kenton,  burning  with  jealousy  and  wrath,  stripped  himself  of 
all  but  his  pants  and  prepared  to  fight.  The  combat  had  pro 
ceeded  but  a  few  moments  when  Kenton's  superior  skill  became 
manifest.  Seeing  their  friend  about  to  be  punished  severely, 
Leitchman's  companions  jumped  upon  Kenton  and  pounded, 
beat,  and  kicked  him  until  he  was  nearly  dead. 


I 

THE  CO  URA  GE  OF  KENT  ON.  465 

Kenton  recovered  from  his  injuries,  but  not  from  the  insult. 
In  the  following  spring  he  went  over  to  Leitchman's  house,  and 
announced  that  he  was  ready  to  fight  it  out.  In  the  combat 
which  followed,  Leitchman,  more  wary  than  before,  succeeded 
in  throwing  Kenton  to  the  ground,  and  at  once  sprang  on  him 
with  malignant  fury.  Kenton  lay  still,  enduring  this  severe 
punishment  till  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a  bush  growing  near  by. 
He  at  once  conceived  a  terrible  revenge.  He  managed  to  lure 
his  rival,  who  had  remarkably  long  hair,  to  the  spot  where  the 
bush  grew.  Watching  his  opportunity,  he  made  a  sudden  and 
violent  effort,  sprang  to  his  feet,  pushed  his  foe  into  the  bush, 
and  quickly  wrapped  his  long  hair  around  its  thick,  tangled 
branches.  Leitchman  gave  an  unearthly  roar  of  pain. 

In  that  moment  the  long-suppressed  rage  burst  forth  from 
Kenton's  heart.  He  took  revenge  terrible  and  complete  for  all 
his  injuries,  and  leaving  Leitchman  for  dead,  he  cast  a  last 
glance  at  his  gasping  foe,  and  then  fled.  Fled,  he  knew  not 
whither,  but  any  place  to  escape  the  pursuers  with  which  his 
imagination  peopled  the  woods  through  which  he  sped.  Day 
and  night  passed,  and  he  paused  not. 

In  time  he  reached  a  region  where  the  settlers  were  talking 
about  the  wonderful  country  of  Kantuckee.  In  their  stories  it 
was  an  earthly  paradise,  an  Eden  in  the  wilderness.  He  fell  in 
with  two  explorers,  Yager  and  Strader.  Yager  had  been  a  cap 
tive  among  the  Indians,  and  claimed  to  have  visited  this  El  Do 
rado  of  the  west.  Fired  by  his  glowing  descriptions,  his  two 
companions  resolved  to  join  him  in  his  search  for  this  wonderful 
region,  where  fruits  blushed  unseen  on  the  branches  of  trees 
which  the  hand  of  man  had  never  planted ;  where  fields  of  gol 
den  grain  sprang  spontaneously  from  the  fertile  soil  and  ripened 
untended  beneath  the  summer  sun;  where  the  forests  were 
stocked  with  supplies  of  rare  and  noble  game,  exhaustless  and 
unequaled. 

A  boat  was  built,  provisions  gathered,  and  the  trio  of  excited 
adventurers  commenced   their  journey  down   the  Ohio.     Days 


466  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

went  by,  but  the  Land  of  Promise  did  not  appear.  For  weary 
weeks  they  journeyed,  but  Yager,  whose  memory  of  the  beauty 
and  luxuriance  of  the  region  was  so  vivid,  was  unable  to  locate 
it.  Worn  out  with  searching  for  a  country  which  was  a  myth, 
they  turned  their  attention  to  hunting  and  trapping  on  the  great 
Kanawha.  This  profitable  occupation  they  followed  for  two 
years,  exchanging  their  furs  with  the  traders  at  Fort  Pitt  for 
such  things  as  they  needed. 

One  evening  in  March,  1773,  they  were  lying  around  their 
camp-fire  in  the  forest,  when  a  dozen  shots  were  fired  at  them 
from  the  darkness.  Strader  was  shot  dead.  Ken  ton  and  Yager 
took  to  flight,  leaving  behind  them  guns,  ammunition,  and 
all  the  accumulation  of  the  two  years'  work.  For  five  days 
they  wandered  through  the  woods,  tortured  with  hunger  and 
benumbed  with  cold.  At  sunset  on  the  last  day,  to  their  great 
joy,  they  fell  in  with  a  party  of  traders. 

Kenton  soon  obtained  another  rifle,  and  again  began  his  for 
est  life.  He  took  part  in  Dunm ore's  war  in  1774,  acting  as  a 
scout.  In  the  summer  of  1775  he  determined  to  join  a  party 
of  explorers  and  again  make  search  for  the  country  which  Yager 
had  described.  By  careful  exploration  of  the  country  for  miles 
on  either  side  of  the  Ohio,  they  at  length  reached  a  region 
which  indeed  afforded  some  basis  for  Yager's  tales.  In  the 
neighborhood  of  what  is  now  Maysville,  Kentucky,  the  soil 
was  found  to  be  of  wonderful  fertility,  far  exceeding  any  thing 
in  the  Ohio  valley,  a  reputation  which  it  bears  to  this  day. 
Here  too,  the  eyes  of  the  hunters  brightened  at  the  sight  of 
vast  herds  of  buffalo.  Elk  of  rare  size,  were  found  in  great 
numbers.  The  explorers  were  beside  themselves.  On  the  site 
of  what  is  now  Washington,  Mason  County,  Kentucky,  they 
cleared  an  acre  of  ground,  and  planted  it  with  Indian  corn. 
Here,  in  comfortable  cabins,  they  made  their  home.  Such  for 
tune  in  hunting  as  they  had  surpassed  their  wildest  dreams. 

One  day  Kenton,  while  roaming  along  the  banks  of  the  Lick 
ing  River,  heard  moans  from  the  direction  of  some  bushes. 


THE  COURAGE  OF  KENTON.  467 

Curious  and  alarmed,  the  trapper  made  his  way  with  caution  to 
the  spot.  He  was  astonished  to  find  two  white  men  lying  on 
the  ground,  almost  destitute  of  clothing  and  emaciated  by  star 
vation.  The  hunter  hurriedly  prepared  them  some  food,  and 
then  started  to  conduct  them  to  his  cabin.  The  journey  proved 
too  much  for  the  exhausted  men,  and  a  camp  had  to  be  pitched 
in  the  woods. 

The  unfortunate  strangers  related  their  story.  Some  time 
previous  they  had  been  descending  the  Ohio,  when  their  boat 
capsized.  All  their  supplies  were  lost.  They  saved  their  lives 
by  swimming.  But  the  hardships  of  the  wilderness,  finding 
them  without  food,  cover,  or  arms,  "o'ercame  them  quite." 
They  had  given  up  all  hope  when  found  by  Kenton.  The  hun 
ter  informed  them  of  his  station,  and  invited  them  to  join  him 
and  his  companions  there.  One  of  the  men  accepted  the  invi 
tation,  but  the  other  declared  his  intention  to  abandon  the  for 
est  life  forever. 

Leaving  Hendricks  in  the  camp  at  the  Blue  Licks,  without 
a  gun,  but  well  supplied  with  provisions,  Kenton  and  his  two 
companions,  who  had  been  with  him  on  the  hunt,  courteously 
accompanied  Fitzpatrick,  who  was  eager  to  commence  his  home 
ward  journey,  as  far  as  the  "Point,"  by  which  name  the  site 
of  Maysville  was  known.  Bidding  him  farewell,  they  retraced 
their  steps  to  the  camp  to  rejoin  Hendricks.  To  their  great 
concern  it  was  found  deserted.  The  tent  was  thrown  down  and 
its  contents  scattered  about.  A  number  of  bullets  were  found 
lodged  in  the  neighboring  trees.  At  a  little  distance  was  a 
.ravine.  A  cloud  of  thick,  white  smoke,  as  if  from  a  newly 
kindled  fire,  hovered  over  it. 

That  Hendricks  had  been  captured  by  Indians  was  plain. 
That  they  themselves  were  in  danger  was  no  less  so,  and  a 
hasty  retreat  was  at  once  begun.  They  were  halted  at  a  dis 
tance  of  a  few  miles  by  some  stinging  rebukes  from  Kenton, 
who  declared  that  common  humanity  demanded  that  an  effort 
be  made  to  save  Hendricks.  Caution  compelled  them  to  wait 


468  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

till  nightfall.  Under  Kenton's  lead  they  then  made  their  way 
back  to  the  camp.  The  fire  was  still  dimly  glowing.  No 
Indians  were  near. 

As  the  men  proceeded  to  reconnoiter  the  locality,  one  of 
them  kicked  a  round  object  lying  on  the  ground.  It  rolled 
nearer  the  fire.  He  stooped 'to  pick  it  up.  He  saw  what  the 
object  was.  It  was  Hendricks's  skull!  The  poor  fellow  had 
been  roasted  and  eaten.  Sadly  enough  Kenton  and  his  com 
rades  made  their  way  to  the  cabin  at  Washington.  Not  for 
several  months  did  they  behold  the  face  of  a  human  being. 
One  lazy  September  day,  Kenton  was  startled  to  discover  a 
man  at  some  distance.  The  stranger  came  nearer.  His  com 
plexion  was  white.  He  informed  Kenton  that  there  were  other 
white  men  in  Kentucky  besides  himself  and  his  companions. 
Daniel  Boone  had  already  founded  a  settlement  in  the  interior. 
Tired  of  solitude,  Kenton  and  his  companions  broke  up  the  set 
tlement  at  Washington,  and  repaired  to  Boonsborough. 

In  1778  Kenton  met  with  a  remarkable  adventure.  -He  was 
with  an  expedition  led  by  Daniel  Boone  against  an  Indian  town 
on  Paint  Creek.  While  scouting  some  distance  ahead  of  the 
main  force,  he  was  startled  by  a  loud  laugh.  To  conceal  him 
self  in  a  thicket  was  the  work  of  a  moment.  Two  large  Indians 
mounted  on  one  small  pony  rode  along  the  path,  laughing  and 
joking  in  high  glee.  Kenton  fired  at  short  range,  killing  not 
only  the  first  Indian,  through  whose  body  the  ball  passed,  but 
wounding  the  second. 

The  scout  sprang  forward  to  scalp  the  wounded  Indian, 
when  a  noise  from  a  thicket  attracted  his  attention.  He  turned 
to  find  two  guns  aimed  at  him  by  a  couple  of  stalwart  savages. 
Kenton  jumped  to  one  side  just  in  time  to  miss  the  deadly 
balls.  Without  delay  he  sought  the  best  shelter  the  place 
afforded.  Before  his  gun  was  reloaded  a  dozen  Indians  were 
on  a  dead  run  toward  him.  The  result  would  in  all  probability 
have  been  fatal  to  Kenton,  had  not  Boone's  party,  alarmed  by 
the  sight  of  the  riderless  pony,  which  had  galloped  toward 


THE  COURAGE  OF  KENTON.  469 

them  when  relieved  of  its  riders,  hurried  to  the  rescue.  Sev 
eral  Indians  fell  dead  at  the  first  fire. 

Knowing  that  his  approach  was  now  discovered  at  the 
Indian  town,  Boone  resolved  on  instant  retreat.  Not  so  with 
Kenton.  He  and  a  friend  named  Montgomery  left  the  party, 
and  proceeded  alone  to  a  neighborhood  of  the  village.  All  day 
they  lay  in  ambush  in  a  corn-field,  hoping  that  some  Indian 
would  come  out  to  gather  roasting  ears.  Disappointed  in  this 
expectation,  they  entered  the  town  after  night,  captured  four 
good  horses,  made  a  rapid  night  ride  to  the  Ohio,  which  they 
swam  in  safety,  and  on  the  second  day  reached  Logan's  Fort 
with  their  booty. 

No  sooner  was  the  restless  Kenton  through  with  this  adven 
ture  than  he  set  out  on  a  scout  with  Montgomery  and  a  young 
man  named  Clark  to  an  Indian  town  on  the  Little  Maumee 
River,  against  which  an  expedition  was  contemplated  by  the 
whites.  Under  cover  of  night  a  thorough  investigation  of  the 
place  and  the  number  of  its  warriors  was  made.  Having  accom 
plished  this,  the  scouts  might  have  returned  in  safety.  But  the 
temptation  to  steal  some  horses  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted. 
In  their  greed  they  determined  to  take  every  horse  in  the  vil 
lage.  Unfortunately  they  had  attempted  too  much,  and  were 
discovered.  The  scouts  saw  their  peril  and  rode  for  their  lives, 
but  were  unwilling  to  abandon  a  single  horse.  Two  rode  in  front 
and  led  the  horses,  while  the  third  plied  his  whip  from  behind. 

They  were  checked  in  their  furious  career  by  a  swamp,  in 
an  attempt  to  avoid  which  they  occupied  the  whole  night.  On 
the  morning  of  the  second  day  they  had  reached  the  Ohio.  The 
wind  was  high,  the  river  rough,  the  crossing  dangerous.  Ken- 
ton  resolved  to  swim  the  horses  across,  while  his  companions 
hurriedly  framed  a  raft  on  which  to  transport  their  guns  and 
baggage.  Again  and  again  Kenton  forced  the  horses  into  the 
water,  but  as  often  the '  animals,  frightened  by  the  boisterous 
waves,  turned  about,  and  swam  back  to  shore. 

No  time  was  to  be  lost.     The  Indians  were  in  hot  pursuit. 

26 


470  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Instead  of  abandoning  the  horses,  which  could  not  be  made  to 
cross  the  river,  the  trio  still  clung  to  their  plunder  and  started 
down  the  banks  of  the  Ohio.  When  the  setting  sun  flung  his 
red  radiance  over  the  stormy  river,  tipping  the  waves  with  crim 
son  splendor,  the  horse-thieves  still  found  themselves  unable  to 
cross.  Totally  infatuated,  the  three  men  encamped  for  the 
night.  At  dawn  they  awoke,  rejoiced  to  find  the  river  as  placid 
as  the  blue  morning  sky  which  arched  above  them.  But  horses 
have  memories,  and  the  captive  equines,  mindful  of  their  former 
experience,  stubbornly  refused  to  enter  the  water.  Blows  and 
curses  were  unavailing.  For  the  white  men  but  one  course 
remained.  Each  mounted  a  horse,  determined  to  ride  to  a  point 
opposite  Louisville,  where  they  could  obtain  transportation. 

It  was  too  late.  Scarcely  had  they  ridden  a  hundred  yards 
when  the  furious  pursuers  were  heard  in  their  rear.  The  for 
tunes  of  the  scouts  were  widely  different.  Clark  escaped. 
Montgomery  was  killed.  Kenton  was  taken  prisoner.  Among 
the  stolen  horses  was  a  wild  colt,  a  vicious  and  powerful  ani 
mal.  Kenton  was  placed  astride  this  animal,  his  hands  tied 
behind  him,  and  his  feet  bound  together  under  the  horse's 
belly.  The  animal  was  then  turned  loose  without  rein  or  bridle. 
A  terrible  cut  from  a  whip  caused  it  to  dash  furiously  into  the 
forest.  On,  on  it  went,  its  defenseless  rider  being  scratched, 
bruised,  and  torn  by  the  overhanging  limbs  of  the  trees. 

Though  blinded  by  the  blood  which  flowed  down  his  lacer 
ated  face,  Kenton  escaped  without  fatal  injury.  He  was  taken 
to  the  famous  Indian  town  of  Old  Chillicothe.  For  amusement 
his  guards  beat  his  naked  back  and  shoulders  with  hickory 
switches.  Of  all  the  borderers  of  the  time  no  one  was  better 
known,  more  greatly  feared,  and  so  bitterly  hated  as  Simon 
Kenton. 

At  his  appearance  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  were  beside 
themselves  with  rage.  Their  fury  found  no  words  adequate  to 
give  it  utterance.  Foaming  at  the  mouth,  they  gave  it  vent  in 
inarticulate  and  blood-curdling  howls  and  curses.  A  stake  was 


THE  COURAGE  OF  KENTON.  471 

driven  in  the  ground.  To  this  the  captive  was  tied,  with  his 
hands  extended  above  him  and  fastened  to  the  top  of  the  stake. 
He  was  painted  black.  Instead  of  the  torture  fires  being 
applied  at  once,  the  savages,  choked  with  speechless  rage, 
danced  and  howled  around  him  until  midnight,  pelting  him  with 
stones,  lacerating  him  with  switches,  and  searing  his  body  with 
red-hot  irons. 

The  rare  pleasure  of  the  occasion  was  prolonged  by  his  grim 
captors.  In  the  morning  he  was  ordered  to  run  the  gauntlet. 
At  the  beat  of  a  drum  he  started  down  the  line  of  warriors, 
armed  with  clubs,  hoe  handles,  tomahawks,  and  butcher  knives. 
Again  and  again  he  was  felled  to  the  ground  by  his  ferocious 
assailants.  When  the  race  was  over,  and  he  lay  bloody  and 
unconscious  in  the  corner  of  a  cabin,  a  council  was  held  in  the 
village.  The  assembled  warriors  were  unanimous  in  their  opin 
ion  that  such  fun  had  not  been  enjoyed  for  many  a  year.  They 
generously  resolved  to  share  the  sport  with  the  other  villages. 
Kenton  was  accordingly  dragged  about  from  town  to  town. 
Once  the  poor  man  attempted  an  escape.  The  pursuit  was 
instant  and  keen. 

Kenton  put  forth  all  his  powers.  At  every  step  he  remem 
bered  that  he  was  flying  from  the  stake  and  the  red-hot  irons. 
But  he  was  retaken  and  carried  back — back  to  beatings  and 
bruising,  back  to  searing  irons  and  the  cruel  gauntlet,  back  to 
the  dreadful  stake  and  the  torturing  flames. 

He  was  taken  to  Wapputomica,  where  his  execution  was  to 
end  his  sufferings.  He  arrived  there  just  as  Simon  Girty,  the 
notorious  renegade,  returned  from  an  unsuccessful  expedition. 
When  the  angry  monster  saw  Kenton,  he  saluted  him  by  knock 
ing  him  down  with  his  brutal  fist.  Too  weak  to  rise,  Kenton 
called  to  Girty  for  protection.  For  once  in  his  life  a  prayer  for 
mercy  was  not  unheard  by  Girty.  He  paused.  He  scanned 
the  emaciated  stranger  closely.  He  asked  his  name.  As  the 
word  "  Kenton "  was  feebly  murmured,  Girty,  with  a  start  of 
surprise,  seized  the  fallen  man  in  his  arms  and  lifted  him  to  a 


472  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

couch.  The  savages  looked  on  in  wonder.  Such  a  thing  had 
never  been  known  before.  Bloodier  than  the  bloodiest,  crueler 
than  the  cruelest,  had  ever  been  Simon  Girty,  a  savage  born 
amid  civilization,  an  Indian  who  was  the  child  of  white  parents. 

The  white  chief  sent  forth  a  summons  for  a  council.  The 
dark  audience  assembled.  On  the  rows  of  faces  ranged  round 
the  room,  rigid  as  if  carved  in  ebony,  not  a  trace  of  curiosity 
could  be  seen.  But  beneath  every  blanket  beat  a  heart  filled 
with  fierce  and  cynical  wonder.  For  some  moments  there  was 
silence  in  the  council  hall. 

Then  Girty  arose.  He  strode  forward  to  the  center  of  the 
room.  He  recounted  the  story  of  his  own  life;  of  how  he  had 
renounced  the  cause  of  the  white  man,  and  become  an  Indian  of 
Indians ;  of  his  enormous  services  to  the  Wyandots,  and  of  the 
rows  of  white  men's  scalps  which  decorated  his  cabin.  He  asked 
if  he  had  ever  been  accused  of  mercy  to  the  race  from  which 
he  sprang.  Yet,  for  this  single  time,  he  had  a  favor  to  ask. 
That  favor  was  the  life  of  a  friend.  That  friend  was  Simon 
Kenton,  the  wretched  captive  lying  there  on  that  blanket. 
Many  years  before,  said  the  orator,  in  rugged  and  convulsive 
eloquence,  he  and  that  captive  had  been  brothers.  They  had 
slept  under  the  same  blanket.  They  had  hunted  through  the 
same  forests.  They  had  dwelt  in  the  same  wigwam.  For  his 
own  sake  he  asked  that  the  life  of  the  captive  be  spared. 

Girty's  influence  was  great.  But  the  Wyandots  regarded 
Kenton  as  their  arch-enemy.  The  dbbate  raged  long  and  loud. 
At  length  the  vote  was  taken.  The  captive  was  saved.  Girty 
took  Kenton  to  his  own  wigwam.  For  three  weeks  he  remained 
there,  recovering  from  his  injuries. 

At  the  end  of  twenty-one  days  •  new  war  party  returned. 
Many  of  their  number  had  been  slain.  The  families  of  the  dead 
demanded  vengeance.  A  cry  rang  through  the  village  for  the 
life  of  Kenton.  A  council  was  called.  Speaker  after  speaker 
arose,  and  with  vehement  gesture  and  heavy  emphasis,  argued 
that  Kenton  must  be  put  to  death.  Girty  again  put  forth  all 


THE  COURAGE  OF  KENT  ON.  473 

his  powers  to  save  his  friend.  But  he  was  overwhelmed.  The 
sentence  of  death  was  passed. 

Kenton  was  bound  and  marched  away  to  another  village. 
An  old  Indian  was  sitting  by  the  roadside.  As  he  caught  sight 
of  Kenton  a  spasm  of  passionate  hate  convulsed  his  sullen  fea 
tures.  He  sprang  forward,  and  with  a  blow  from  his  toma 
hawk  cut  open  Kenton's  shoulder,  breaking  the  bone,  and  almost 
severing  the  arm  from  the  body.  In  this  condition  he  was 
driven  on  to  Sandusky,  arriving  there  in  the  evening.  Arrange 
ments  were  at  once  made  to  burn  him  alive  on  the  follow 
ing  morning. 

By  strange  coincidence  a  British  Indian  agent  was  in  the 
town.  Learning  of  Kenton's  arrival,  he  at  once  demanded  the 
captive,  in  order  that  the  commandant  at  Detroit  might  obtain 
from  him  information  of  the  enemy.  The  Indians  consented  to 
give  him  up  only  on  condition  that  he  be  returned  to  them. 
That  condition  was  never  kept.  He  remained  at  Detroit,  under 
mild  restraint,  from  October,  1777,  to  June,  1778.  In  the  lat 
ter  month  he  resolved  upon  an  escape,  taking  into  his  confidence 
two  young  Kentuckians,  captives  like  himself.  By  great  adroit 
ness  Kenton  managed  to  get  possession  of  three  guns  and  some 
ammunition.  After  a  journey  of  thirty  days  through  a  wilder 
ness  infested  by  Indian  war  parties,  the  three  refugees  arrived 
at  Louisville. 

"  Thus,"  says  a  writer,  "  terminated  one  of  the  most  remark 
able  series  of  adventure  in  the  whole  realm  of  western  history. 
Kenton  was  eight  times  exposed  to  the  gauntlet,  and  three 
times  tied  to  the  stake  for  execution.  For  three  weeks  he 
vibrated  between  life  and  death.  Yet,  amid  the  changes  of 
fickle  fortune,  he  remained  perfectly  passive.  No  wisdom,  fore 
sight,  or  exertion  could  have  saved  him.  Fortune,  and  fortune 
alone,  fought  his  battle  from  first  to  last." 

For  many  years,  Kenton  continued  to  be  one  of  the  most 
formidable  Indian  fighters  of  the  valley.  Through  the  details 
of  his  eventful  career  we  may  not  follow  him.  One  incident  is 


474  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

worth  mentioning.  While  at  Detroit,  an  English  officer  observ 
ing  his  fondness  for  smoking,  and  the  difficulty  of  lighting  his 
pipe,  presented  him  with  a  fine  burning  glass  or  lens,  by  which 
the  tobacco  could  easily  be  kindled  from  the  rays  of  the  sun. 
Two  or  three  years  afterward  Kenton  was  again  taken  prisoner. 
He  was  bound  hand  and  foot,  preparatory  to  an  immediate  exe 
cution.  As  his  last  request  to  his  captors,  he  asked  the  privi 
lege  of  smoking  his  pipe.  He  placed  the  long,  wooden  stem  in 
his  mouth.  The  chief  handed  him  the  customary  flint,  steel,  and 
tinder  for  lighting  the  tobacco. 

With  a  gesture  of  indifference,  Kenton  refused  the  imple 
ments,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  savage.  Extending 
his  hand  toward  the  midday  sun,  cleverly  grasping  the  burning- 
glass,  he  adroitly  focused  the  rays  in  the  pipe  bowl  and  was 
quickly  puffing  clouds  of  smoke  from  his  lips.  The  Indians 
were  dumfounded.  Not  having  noticed  the  glass,  they  sup- 
possed  he .  had  lighted  his  pipe  by  letting  the  sunlight  pass 
through  the  circle  formed  by  his  thumb  and  forefinger.  Awe- 
stricken  and  amazed,  they  grouped  together  at  a  little  distance, 
with  mutterings  and  grunts  of  wonder. 

In  a  little  while,  Kenton  refilled  his  pipe,  and  repeated  the 
trick,  accompanying  it  with  three  or  four  cries,  mysterious  and 
startling  to  the  Indians.  No  one  understood  better  than  Ken- 
ton  the  superstition  of  their  minds.  Seizing  his  advantage,  lie 
made  a  sweeping  gesture,  clasping  his  hands  above  his  head, 
and  transferring  the  glass  to  his  left  hand.  In  a  moment  he 
had  kindled  some  dry  leaves  at  his  side  into  a  flame. 

Struggling  to  his  feet,  tied  though  they  were,  and  giving  a 
terrific  leap,  such  as  Kenton  alone  could  make,  he  brought  him 
self  to  the  pile  of  fagots  which  had  been  gathered  for  his  tor 
ture.  In  a  moment  a  flame  blazed  up  around  the  stake  as  if 
the  victim  were  already  fastened  to  it.  Kenton  then  beckoned 
to  the  chief  to  unbind  his  ankles.  The  mystified  Indian  durst 
not  disobey  such  a  man.  While  fumbling  at  the  thongs,  Kenton 
raised  his  burning-glass,  and  in  a  moment  raised  a  blister  on  the 


•'   ' ''"  :"    •'  _ :  • ."  i     '  '•<    •  '<.'     ••'.     ..fe'/.1 [ : J Ai 


THE  COURAGE  OF  KENTON.  477 

red  man's  wrist.  He  jerked  his  hand  away  with  a  howl  of 
pain  only  to  feel  a  spot  of  fire  on  his  head.  This  was  too  much. 
The  chief  and  his  companions  hurriedly  got  behind  the  nearest 
trees.  Kenton  then  unbound  his  own  ankles.  Waving  his  arms 
towards  the  sun,  he  withdrew  the  stopple  from  a  powder-horn, 
dropped  by  the  Indians,  focused  the  sunbeams  upon  the  powder 
within,  and  shook  his  fist  at  his  foes.  In  an  instant  the  powder- 
horn  exploded  with  a  flash  and  roar.  Not  only  had  the  pow 
der-horn  disappeared.  The  Indians  left  at  the  same  instant. 
Kenton  was  free. 

The  later  career  of  Kenton  is  a  strange  illustration  of  the 
reverses  in  the  fortunes  of  men.  When  the  Indian  wars  were 
over,  the  brave  and  generous  Kenton  found  himself  without  an 
occupation.  The  lands  which  he  had  bought  were  lost  to  him 
through  technical  flaws  in  the  title.  He  had  braved  the  toma 
hawk,  the  gauntlet,  and  the  stake  in  vain.  The  people  who 
now  came  in  to  occupy  and  possess  the  fair  region,  to  redeem 
which  from  the  savages  he  had  devoted  the  best  years  of  his 
life,  found  no  use  for  the  old  scout.  His  very  body  was  taken 
for  debt.  He  was  imprisoned  for  a  year  on  the  very  spot  where 
he  had  built  the  first  cabin,  planted  the  first  corn,  and  fought 
the  savages  in  a  hundred  fierce  encounters. 

Beggared  by  losses  and  law-suits,  he  moved  to  Ohio  about 
the  beginning  of  this  century.  He  was  elected  brigadier-general 
of  the  State  militia,  and  was  a  soldier  of  the  war  of  1812.  In 
1810  he  joined  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and  ever  after 
lived  a  consistent  Christian  life.  After  the  war  of  1812  he 
returned  to  his  lonely  cabin  in  the  woods,  near  Urbana,  Ohio. 
In  1820  he  moved  to  Mad  River,  in  sight  of  the  old  Indian  town 
of  Wappatomica,  where  he  had  once  been  tied  to  the  stake. 
Even  here  he  was  pursued  by  judgments  and  executions  from 
the  courts  of  Kentucky.  He  still  had  some  large  tracts  of 
mountain  lands  in  Kentucky  which  were  forfeited  for  taxes.  He 
tried  boring  for  salt  on  them,  but  failed.  His  last  resource  was 
an  appeal  to  the  Kentucky  Legislature  to  release  the  forfeiture. 


478  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

"  So,"  says  McClung,  "  in  1824,  when  about  seventy  years 
old,  he  mounted  his  sorry  old  horse,  and,  in  his  tattered  gar 
ments,  commenced  his  weary  pilgrimage.  The  second  night  he 
stopped  at  the  house  of  James  Galloway,  of  Xenia,  Ohio,  an 
old  friend  and  pioneer. 

"  Kenton  at  last  reached  Frankfort,  now  become  a  thrifty 
and  flourishing  city.  Here  he  was  utterly  unknown.  All  his 
old  friends  had  departed.  His  dilapidated  appearance  and  the 
sorry  condition  of  his  horse  and  its  wretched  equipments  only 
provoked  mirth.  The  grizzled  old  pioneer  was  like  Rip  Van 
Winkle  appearing  after  his  long  sleep.  He  wandered  up  and 
down  the  streets, /the  observed  of  all  observers.'  The  very 
boys  followed  him.  At  length,  the  scarred  old  warrior  was 
recognized  by  General  Fletcher,  an  old  companion-in-arms.  He 
grasped  him  by  the  hand,  led  him  to  a  tailor-shop,  bought  him  a 
suit  of  clothes  and  hat,  and,  after  he  was  dressed,  took  him  to 
the  State  capitol. 

"Here  he  was  placed  in  the  speaker's  chair,  and  introduced 
to  a  crowded  assembly  of  judges,  citizens,  and  legislators,  as 
the  second  pioneer  of  Kentucky.  The  simple-minded  veteran 
used  to  say  afterwards  that  'it  was  the  very  proudest  day  of 
his  life/  and  ten  years  subsequently,  his  friend  Hinde  asserted, 
he  was  wearing  the  self-same  hat  and  clothes.  His  lands  were 
at  once  released,  and  shortly  after,  by  the  warm  exertion  of 
some  of  his  friends,  a  pension  from  Congress  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  was  obtained,  securing  his  old  age  from  abso 
lute  want. 

"  Without  any  further  marked  notice,  Kenton  lived  in  his 
humble  cabin  until  1836,  when,  at  the  venerable  old  age  of 
eighty-one,  he  breathed  his  last,  surrounded  by  his  family  and 
neighbors,  and  supported  by  the  consolations  of  the  Gospel. 
He  died  in  sight  of  the  very  spot  where  the  savages,  nearly 
sixty  years  previous,  proposed  to  torture  him  to  death. 

"General  Kenton  was  of  fair  complexion,  six  feet  one  inch 
in  height.  He  stood  and  walked  very  erect,  and,  in  the  prime 


THE  COURAGE  OF  KENT  ON. 


479 


of  life,  weighed  about  a  hundred  and  ninety  pounds.  He  never 
was  inclined  to  be  corpulent,  although  of  sufficient  fullness  to 
form  a  graceful  person.  He  had  a  soft,  tremulous  voice,  very 
pleasing  to  the  hearer;  auburn  hair  and  laughing  gray  eyes, 
which  appeared  to  fascinate  the  beholder.  He  was  a  pleasant, 
good-humored,  and  obliging  companion.  When  excited,  or  pro 
voked  to  anger,  which  was  seldom  the  case,  the  fiery  glance  of 
his  eye  would  almost  curdle  the  blood  of  those  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact.  His  wrath,  when  aroused,  was  a  tornado.  In 
his  dealings  he  was  perfectly  honest.  His  confidence  in  man 
and  his  credulity  were  such,  that  the  same  man  might  cheat  him 
twenty  times — and,  if  he  professed  friendship,  might  still  con 
tinue  to  cheat  him." 

Such  was   the  man  after  whom  was  named  the   county  of 
Kenton,  Kentucky. 


480 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BRADY,  THE    BACKWOODSMAN. 

JAPTAIN  SAMUEL  BRADY,  the  hero  of  this 
narrative,  was  born  in  1758,  in  the  town  of 
Shippensburg,  Pennsylvania.  John  Brady,  his 
father,  had  before  him  been  a  brave  and  adven 
turous  man.  On  the  eleventh  day  of  April, 
1779,  this  gentleman,  being  in  command  of  an 
exposed  post,  set  out  for  Fort  Augusta,  to  pro 
cure  supplies  of  provisions.  He  had  loaded  his 
wagon  heavily,  and  with  several  guards  started  early  in  the 
afternoon  to  return. 

At  a  certain  point  the  road  forked.  Those  in  charge  of  the 
wagon  went  one  way,  while  Brady  and  a  companion  named 
Smith,  who  Avere  on  horseback,  took  the  shorter  cut.  The  spot 
was  lonely.  As  the  two  men  rode  slowly  along,  Brady  related 
to  his  companion  an  incident  in  his  life  which  had  made  a  deep 
impression  on  his  mind. 

The  story  he  told  was  as  follows:  In  1776,  information 
had  been  received  at  Fort  Augusta,  of  the  approach  of  Indians. 
Runners  were  at  once  dispatched  to  the  neighboring  settlements. 
In  the  afternoon  Brady  remembered  that  they  had  forgotten  to 
send  word  to  a  trading  post,  occupied  by  a  Dutchman  named 
Derr.  He  threw  himself  into  his  saddle  to  carry  the  message. 
Arriving  at  his  destination,  Brady  found  the  yard  full  of 
Indians,  stretched  out  on  the  ground,  brutally  drunk,  while  Derr 
sat  calmly  by,  smoking  his  pipe,  as  if  nothing  unusual  had 
occurred.  Brady  rebuked  him  sternly.  The  Dutchman  replied 


BRADY,   THE  BACKWOODSMAN. 


481 


that  the  Indians  had  come  and  informed  him  that  they  would 
kill  him  unless  he  gave  them  liquor.  Acting  on  the  hint,  he 
had  politely  rolled  out  a  barrel  of  rum  for  his  guests'  enter 
tainment.  As  he  spoke,  a  drunken  Indian,  with  a  long  scar  on 


his  left  cheek,  staggered  toward  the  half-emptied  barrel  to  take 
another  drink.  Brady,  however,  interfered,  and  upset  the  barrel, 
spilling  its  contents.  The  Indian  broke  out  into  Curses,  and, 
with  bitter  emphasis,  told  Brady  that  the  day  would  yet  come 
when  he  would  regret  that  act. 


482  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Ever  since  that  time,  said  the  Captain  to  his  companion,  the 
memory  of  that  threat  had  haunted  him.  Knowing  the  Indian 
character,  he  believed  that  if  that  savage  should  ever  chance  to 
meet  him,  the  threat  would  be  fulfilled  by  an  attempt  on  his 
life.  By  this  time  the  riders  had  reached  a  place  of  exceeding 
wildness.  At  that  moment  three  rifles  were  fired  in  quick  suc 
cession.  Brady  dropped  lifeless  on  the  road.  Smith  bounded 
away.  Momentarily  glancing  back,  he  saw  an  Indian  standing 
over  his  dead  friend  flourishing  a  bloody  scalp.  He  also  saw 
that  the  savage  had  a  long  and  prominent  scar  on  the  left  side 
of  his  face. 

Such  was  the  fate  of  the  father  of  Captain  Samuel  Brady. 
Only  the  year  before,  his  younger  brother,  James,  had  also  been 
killed  by  Indians.  The  young  man,  with  three  or  four  compan 
ions,  had  stood  their  guns  against  a  tree.  An  Indian  suddenly 
fired,  at  which  the  others  fled.  Brady,  however,  seized  a  gun, 
and  shot  the  savage,  only  to  find  himself  left  to  contend  alone 
against  a  host  of  enemies.  Two  other  guns  he  also  fired  at  his 
foes  with  fatal  effect,  but  while  reaching  for  the  fourth  gun  was 
knocked  senseless.  He  was  tomahawked,  scalped,  and  left  for 
dead.  Coming  to  conciousness,  the  plucky  fellow  managed  to 
<3rawl  to  a  settler's  cabin.  He  lived  three  or  four  days,  and 
then  died  from  his  wounds. 

In  conformity  to  the  wild  customs  of  the  frontier,  the  elder 
brother  took  a  solemn  oath  that  the  remainde"  of  his  life  should 
be  devoted  to  wreaking  a  dreadful  vengeance  on  the  race  whose 
members  had  thus  twice  desolated  the  family  circle. 

In  1780  Brady  was  dispatched  from  Fort  Pitt  to  the  distant 
towns  of  the  Sandusky  on  a  scout.  He  chose  for  his  compan 
ions  a  few  men  and  four  Chickasaw  Indians.  The  season  was 
wet.  The  streams  were  swollen  beyond  their  banks.  Owing  to 
several  mishaps,  their  provisions  ran  low.  The  chart  of  the 
country  which  Brady  carried  proved  to  be  defective  and  mis 
leading.  In  time?  however,  they  reached  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Indian  towns. 


BRADY,   THE  BACKWOODSMAN.  483 

While  stealing  through  the  woods,  the  sound  of  human 
voices  broke  upon  them.  Leaving  his  comrades  behind  him, 
Brady  slipped  forward  to  make  observations.  Sitting  beside 
the  embers  of  a  camp-fire  he  found  two  squaws.  He  turned 
back  unnoticed,  leaving  them  unharmed.  Coming  back  to  his 
companions,  he  detected  by  their  sullen  looks  and  gruff  answers 
that  something  had  happened.  The  young  scout  sat  down 
unconcernedly  to  clean  his  rifle.  For  some  time  nothing  was 
said.  He  then  called  on  the  men  to  hand  him  their  ammuni 
tion  pouches,  in  order  to  make  an  equal  distribution  of  the  pow 
der  on  hand.  Instead  of  obeying  the  command,  the  men  flatly 
refused.  They  informed  Brady  that  the  faithless  Chickasaws 
had  deserted,  taking  with  them  all  the  provisions,  and  that 
instead  of  continuing  the  scout,  they  had  resolved  on  flight. 

To  this  startling  announcement  Brady  replied  by  handing 
the  speaker  his  powder-horn,  and  asked  him  to  see  how  much 
powder  it  contained.  There  was  not  a  grain  left.  Raising  his 
gun  to  his  shoulder,  Brady  announced  that  he  had  one  load  yet 
in  the  weapon  and  that  he  would  use  to  maintain  his  authority. 
The  men,  awed  into  admiration  for  their  young  leader,  yielded. 
Matters  having  been  thus  settled,  Brady  hid  all  of  his  company 
but  one  man  in  a  ravine.  He  and  his  companion  then  started 
to  the  village,  wading  the  river  to  an  island  opposite  the  town, 
where  they  lay  during  the  night. 

In  the  morning  a  dense  fog  covered  the  landscape.  At  noon 
it  lifted.  The  astonished  spies  discovered  a  vast  concourse  of 
Indians,  evidently  just  returned  from  an  expedition  against  the 
frontiers,  bringing  with  them  a  number  of  fine  horses.  The 
crowd  was  wild  with  hilarity  over  some  races,  by  which  they 
were  testing  the  animals  and  celebrating  the  occasion.  That 
night  Brady,  having  accomplished  the  object  of  his  journey, 
rejoined  his  men  and  commenced  the  return  trip.  Entirely  des 
titute  of  provisions  they  nevertheless  subsisted  for  a  time  on 
strawberries.  Only  one  rifle-charge  was  left  in  the  party. 

The  loaded  gun  was  given  to  Brady.     Discovering  a  deer- 


484  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

track,  the  scout  followed  it,  and,  coming  within  sight  of  the 
animal,  attempted  to  fire.  To  his  intense  disappointment  the 
gun  failed  to  go  off,  and  the  deer  fled.  Brady  picked  the 
touch-hole  of  the  weapon,  and  was  starting  in  renewed  pursuit 
of  the  game,  when  he  discovered  a  party  of  Indians.  They 
were  led  by  a  large  and  powerful  savage  on  horseback,  carrying 
in  his  arms  a  white  child.  The  child's  mother  rode  behind  him 
on  the  horse.  Ten  warriors  followed  the  leader. 

Brady  was  a  kind-hearted  man.  Moreover,  he  was  young, 
and,  therefore,  gallant.  From  his  concealment  his  quick  eye 
perceived  that  the  woman  had  been  brutally  mistreated.  One 
of  her  arms  was  broken.  Her  face  was  a  mass  of  bruises.  Brady 
forgot  himself.  He  raised  his  gun,  and  aiming  carefully  for  fear 
of  injury  to  the  mother  or  her  child,  fired,  the  unerring  bullet 
plunging  into  the  heart  of  the  savage.  The  Indians  were  par 
alyzed  by  fright  and  confusion. 

Seizing  his  opportunity,  Brady  rushed  forth,  caught  the  child 
in  one  arm,  the  woman  in  the  other,  and  disappeared  in  the 
brush  amid  a  shower  of  balls.  He  was  infinitely  disgusted  to 
find  that  his  cowardly  men  had  fled,  allowing  two  prisoners  to 
escape.  Nevertheless  he  made  his  way  with  his  two  helpless 
companions  to  Fort  Mclntosh,  and  from  there  to  Pittsburgh, 
where  he  received  the  congratulations  of  General  Broadhead. 

Brady's  next  service  was  a  scout,  with  a  man  named  Phouts, 
in  the  direction  of  the  Susquehanna.  Their  start  was  made  two 
hours  before  day.  At  evening  they  halted  by  a  small  creek  and 
built  a  fire.  While  out  hunting  they  discovered  a  deer-lick, 
and,  as  a  consequence,  brought  into  camp  some  excellent  ven 
ison.  The  following  day,  a  blue  smoke,  floating  above  the  top 
of  a  distant  forest,  indicated  an  Indian  camp.  They  approached 
cautiously  and  discovered,  to  their  surprise,  one  old  Indian  sit 
ting  by  the  fire  mending  his  moccasins.  Phouts  prepared  to 
fire,  but  Brady  prevented  him  from  doing  so,  and  the  two  men 
left  unobserved. 

A  few  hours  later  they  came  upon  a  well-defined  Indian  trail. 


BRADY,  THE  BACKWOODSMAN.  485 

Brady  noted  the  signs,  and  became  convinced  that  a  strong  party 
of  Indians  had  passed  there  the  previous  day.  He  at  once  deter 
mined  to  take  the  old  savage  captive,  and  return  forthwith-  to 
Pittsburgh.  Early  in  the  morning  they  returned  to  the  Indian's 
camp,  and  found  the  savage  lying  on  his  back  by  the  fire. 
Brady  crept  forward  toward  the  Indian,  and  when  within  a  few 
feet,  gave  a  whoop  and  jumped  on  the  prostrate  savage.  A  brief 
struggle  ended  in  the  old  fellow  being  strongly  tied. 

On  being  assured  that  he  would  be  taken  to  Pittsburgh 
unharmed,  the  captive  politely  pulled  aside  some  bushes,  and 
pointed  out  a  most  excellent  canoe.  The  trio  embarked,  floating 
down  the  creek  to  the  spot  where  they  had  encamped  the  pre 
vious  night,  and  landed.  Here  they  encamped  until  morning. 
Brady  rose  early  and  went  up  the  'creek  to  where  they  had 
left  some  venison  hanging  on  a  tree,  which  they  wanted  for 
breakfast. 

Meanwhile,  an  interesting  little  occurrence  took  place  in 
Brady's  absence.  The  wily  Indian  complained  to  Phouts,  who 
was  a  dull  Dutchman,  that  his  cords  hurt  him,  and  begged  his 
guard  to  loosen  them  for  a  few  moments.  The  Dutchman, 
charmed  by  the  docile  behavior  and  extreme  humility  of  the 
prisoner,  took  off  the  cords  entirely. 

The  old  man  sat  meekly  on  the  ground  without  a  suspicious 
movement.  At  a  moment  when  Phouts  stooped  to  fix  the  fire, 
the  Indian  gave  a  lightning  spring  toward  the  Dutchman's  gun, 
which  was  leaning  against  a  tree,  seized  it,  and  fired  at  point- 
blank  range.  In  the  hurry  his  aim  was  bad,  and  the  ball  only 
took  off  a  part  of  the  Dutchman's  bullet-pouch.  Phouts  rushed 
on  the  savage,  and,  with  one  blow  from  his  tomahawk,  clove 
asunder  his  skull.  Brady,  alarmed  by  the  report,  hurried  back, 
relieved  to  find  that  nothing  worse  had  happened.  Their  return 
to  Pittsburgh  was  made  without  further  incident. 

Brady's  genius  for  scouting  was  soon  recognized,  and  he 
was  constantly  employed  on  the  most  perilous  missions.  On  one 
occasion  his  bravery  almost  brought  about  a  fatal  result.  He 


486  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

was  taken  captive  by  a  band  of  Indians,  near  Beaver  River. 
He  and  four  companions  had  come  upon  an  Indian  camp.  A 
fire  was  burning,  and  near  by  lay  some  tempting  deer  meat. 
Their  hunger  overcame  their  prudence,  and  the  men,  roasting  the 
venison,  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  a  hearty  meal. 

It  is  said  that  one  of  the  men  stopped  eating,  and  suggested 
that  the  meat  might  be  poisoned.  At  that  instant  there  was  a 
report  from  a  dozen  rifles.  Brady's  four  companions  dropped 
dead.  The  Indians,  recognizing  him,  had  saved  his  life  only  to 
reserve  him  for  the  pleasure  of  torture.  He  was  taken  to  their 
village,  given  the  usual  reception  of  blows  and  beatings,  and  was 
forced  to  run  the  gauntlet.  The  traditional  stake,  with  a  pile  of 
fagots,  was  prepared.  Previous  to  commencing  the  torture^ 
he  was  stripped  and  a  circle  of  Indians  formed  around  him  for 
a  fantastic  dance. 

The  torture  fires  were  already  blazing.  He  felt  that  his  end 
was  at  hand,  but  still,  with  cool  head  and  fearless  eye,  he  cal 
culated  the  chances  of  escape.  When  the  dance  was  at  its 
height,  a  squaw,  carrying  in  her  arms  a  young  child,  strode  up 
to  Brady  and  hit  him  a  terrible  blow  with  a  war-club.  She 
was  about  to  repeat  the  outrage  when  Brady,  gathering  all  his 
strength,  sprang  upon  her,  tore  the  child  from  her  arms,  and 
threw  it  clear  over  the  circle  of  dancers  into  the  flames  beyond. 
The  Indians,  struck  with  horror,  rushed,  as  by  one  thought,  to 
rescue  the  child.  This  Brady  had  foreseen.  In  the  midst  of 
the  confusion  he  dashed  through  the  crowd,  overturning  every 
one  in  his  way,  and  disappearing  in  a  neighboring  ravine. 

Another  story  related  of  Brady  places  him  in  company  with 
sixteen  companions.  The  party  was  encamped  for  a  night. 
Towards  morning  a  gun  was  heard,  and  the  scouts  quickly 
withdrew  to  an  elevated  bluff.  Beneath  them  they  discovered 
six  Indians  standing  around  a  fire.  Brady  ordered  his  men  to 
lie  down  while  he  kept  watch.  At  day-break  he  placed  them 
side  by  side,  with  himself  at  the  end  of  the  line.  At  an  oppor 
tune  moment  Brady  touched,  with  his  elbow,  the  man  on  his 


BRADY,   THE  BACKWOODSMAN.  487 

left,  who  in  turn  communicated  it  to  his  neighbor,  and  so  on 
down  the  line.  When  the  nudge  reached  the  last  man,  he  fired, 
followed  by  all  the  others.  Every  Indian  in  the  camp  was 
killed,  with  perhaps,  a  single  exception. 

Brady  and  two  companions,  passing  along  the  northern  shore 
of  the  Ohio,  once  reached  the  neighborhood  of  a  cabin  occupied 
by  a  man  named  Gray.  Suddenly  Brady  detected  the  pres 
ence  of  Indians.  In  the  moment  of  concealing  himself  Brady 
saw  Gray  approaching  carelessly  on  horseback.  As  the  hunter 
passed  him  Brady  sprang  out,  dragged  him  off  his  horse, 
and  whispered,  "I  am  Sam  Brady.  For  heaven's  sake,  keep 
quiet." 

That  this  summary  treatment  saved  Gray's  life  there  can  be 
no  doubt.  The  four  men  approached  the  site  of  the  cabin  and 
discovered  it  to  be  a  heap  of  embers.  Of  Gray's  wife  and  chil 
dren  there  was  no  trace.  Gray,  frantic  with  grief,  begged  his 
companions  to  join  him  in  pursuit  of  the  abductors.  To  Brady 
such  an  appeal  was  never  made  in  vain.  In  two  hours  they 
came  upon  the  Indians,  who  were  there  in  force.  There,  bound 
hand  and  foot,  sat  Gray's  wife  and  children. 

The  number  of  the  savages  so  much  exceeded  that  of  Brady's 
party  that  a  night  attack  was  the  only  hope  for  the  rescue  of 
the  captives.  At  an  auspicious  moment  the  four  avengers  stole 
noiselessly  into  the  camp  and  distributed  themselves  among  the 
sleepers.  At  a  given  signal  from  Brady  each  man  tomahawked 
the  nearest  Indians.  The  survivors,  leaping  to  their  feet, 
bounded  into  the  forest,  leaving  their  captives  in  the  Hands  of 
the  white  men. 

Probably  the  most  famous  of  Brady's  exploits  is  that  known 
as  "Brady's  Leap."  He  had  been  pursued  by  Indians  for  some 
distance  from  Sandusky,  and,  at  last,  seemed  to  be  hedged  in 
in  all  directions.  It  was  a  principle  with  the  scout  to  never 
surrender.  Taking  in  the  situation  with  a  quick  glance,  he 
bounded  off  toward  a  creek,  at  a  point  where  it  rushed  through 
a  rocky  gorge.  From  bank  to  bank  was  more  than  twenty-five 


488 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


feet.  On  his  way,  Brady  hurled  two  savages  to  the  ground. 
The  whole  swarm  were  following  him  with  wild  yells,  believing 
that  when  he  reached  the  brink  of  the  chasm,  he  must  be  forced 

to  pause  and  be 
come  their  captive. 
Rushing  forward 
with  the  greatest 
impetuosity,  Brady 
collected  all  his 
energies,  and  as 
his  foot  touched 
the  verge  of  the 
precipice,  he  gave 
a  terrific  leap, 
catching  the  bushes 
on  the  steep,  rocky 
cliff  of  the  opposite 
bank,  and  quickly 
[I  scrambling  to  his 
feet. 

The  Indians  were 
dumfounded.  It 
I  was  not  long,  how 
ever,  till  they  made 
their  way  around, 
|  and  were  again  in 
pursuit  of  Brady. 
For  his  part,  he  had 
received  a  bullet  in 
his  leg  as  he  jumped 
the  chasm,  and  found  himself  unable  to  maintain  his  terrific 
speed.  He  made  his  way  to  a  body  of  water,  which  still  bears 
the  name  of  "Brady's  Lake."  He  unhesitatingly  plunged  in, 
diving  to  a  spot  covered  by  pond  lilies.  Here  he  found  that 
he  could  keep  his  face  under  water  by  breathing  through  the 


BRADY'S     LEAP. 


BRADY,   THE  BACKWOODSMAN.  489 

hollow  stem  of  a  weed.  The  Indians  followed  his  bloody  track 
to  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  concluded  that  he  had  committed 
suicide.  When  their  pursuit  was  abandoned  Brady  came  out  of 
the  water  and  made  his  way  home. 

In  1786  Captain  Brady  married  a  Miss  Drucilla  Swearingen. 
Her  father,  a  prominent  soldier  of  the  Revolution,  objected  to 
the  match,  but  the  beautiful  young  lady,  enamored  with  the 
prowess  and  prestige  of  her  lover,  married  him.  The  fond  and 
lovely  wife  suffered  greatly  in  mind  during  the  absences  of  her 
brave  husband  on  lengthy  scouts.  He  was  always  a  little  lame 
from  the  wound  received  at  the  time  of  his  famous  leap.  He 
also  became  quite  deaf  in  his  old  age.  This  he  attributed  to 
his  having  remained  so  long  under  the  water  of  the  lake.  His 
last  years  were  spent  at  West  Liberty,  West  Virginia,  where 
he  died. 


490 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


OHAPTEE  XY. 

THE  DAYS  OF  DA'NIEL  BOONE. 

BOOK  of  American  pioneers  would  be  incomplete 
without  a  sketch  of  Daniel  Boone,  the  pioneer 
of  Kentucky.  It  is  not  because  he  had  such 
thrilling  adventures,  for  the  experiences  of 
many  of  the  borderers  far  surpassed  those  of 
Boone  in  wild  heroism  and  wonderful  feats.  It 
is  the  character  of  Boone  which  impressed  itself 
upon  the  minds  of  his  contemporaries,  and  gives 
him  such  a  prominent  place  in  the  history  of  the  Ohio  valley. 
His  grandfather  came  to  this  country  from  England.  No  fur 
ther  reason  need  be  sought  for  this  move  on  the  part  of  the 
old  gentleman  than  the  fact  that  he  had  nineteen  children.  He 
possessed  peculiar  qualifications  for  the  population  of  a  new 
country. 

Our  hero  was  born  in  Berks  County,  Pennsylvania,  but  his 
family  removed  at  an  early  day  to  North  Carolina.  His  educa 
tion  consisted  in  a  short  term  at  a  school,  opened  by  a  wander 
ing  Irishman.  The  building  was  a  square  log  structure,  with  a 
fire-place  occupying  one  side  of  the  room,  and  holding  a  log  ten 
feet  long.  One  day  young  Boone  found  himself  at  a  spot  where 
his  schoolmaster  had  been  observed  to  frequently  stop.  Under 
some  vines  he  discovered,  to  his  surprise,  a  bottle  of  whisky. 
That  night  Master  Boone  took  some  comrades  into  his  confi 
dence,  and  poured  into  the  bottle  a  quantity  of  tartar-emetic. 
Having  set  up  the  job,  the  boys  waited  on  the  following 
morning  for  the  denouement.  During  recess  the  boys,  with 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  491 

many  a  poke  in  one  another's  ribs,  observed  the  unsuspecting 
pedagogue  going  to  the  spot  where  the  bottle  was  hidden.  He 
reappeared  in  a  few  moments  with  his  face  red  as  fire.  The 
school  was  called  together  more  quickly  than  usual,  and  the 
urchins  trembled  on  their  puncheon  seats.  The  first  two  schol 
ars  made  wretched  failures  of  their  lessons,  and  received  terrific 
thrashings.  Boone's  turn  came  next.  The  Irishman's  face  was  as 
white  as  paper.  Boone's  head  was  buzzing  with  curiosity  about 
the  whisky  bottle,  and  he  too  failed.  The  master  began  to 
whip  his  pupil  when  the  medicine  began  to  take  fearful  effect. 
Boone  revenged  himself  for  his  beating  by  throwing  the  wretched 
man  down,  at  which  signal  the  whole  school  joined  in  a  shout 
and  ran  off. 

We  have  one  other  brief  glimpse  of  Boone's  boyhood.  One 
evening  he  failed  to  return  from  a  hunt.  His  father  and  neigh 
bors  set  out  to  search  for  the  missing  lad,  who  was  but  fourteen 
years  old.  At  the  end  of  two  days  the  father  found  the  lad  living 
in  a  temporary  hovel  of  sods  and  branches.  Numerous  skins  of 
wild  animals  decorated  the  place.  A  piece  of  venison  was  roast 
ing  at  the  fire.  Here  the  boy  was  enjoying  himself  all  alone. 

When  he  arrived  at  manhood,  Boone  married  Rebecca  Bryan. 
The  first  explorers  brought  back  glowing  reports  of  Kentucky, 
and  in  1769,  Boone,  fascinated  by  these  stories,  with  five  com 
panions,  started  to  view  this  inland  paradise  themselves.  They 
built  a  cabin  on  Red  River,  to  protect  themselves  from  a 
tremendous  rain,  which  fell  steadily  for  two  weeks.  Here  they 
remained  almost  stationary  for  six  months.  The  vast  droves  of 
buffalo  and  shadowy  herds  of  deer  supplied  the  men  with  profit 
able  employment  and  exciting  pleasure. 

On  the  22d  of  December,  1769,  Boone  and  Stuart  resolved 
to  explore  the  interior  of  the  country.  In  all  the  six  months 
of  their  residence  in  the  lovely  region,  neither  the  figure  or  even 
a  foot-print  of  a  savage  had  been  seen.  After  a  few  days'  jour 
ney,  the  men  discovered  a  lofty  mountain,  which  they  climbed, 
in  order  to  obtain  a  view  of  the  country.  Standing  on  its  top, 


492  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

their  dark  figures  outlined  against  the  sky,  and  visible  for  many 
miles,  the  hunters'  eyes  were  gladdened  with  a  view  of  the  fair 
est  landscape  in  the  world.  Sloping  hills,  alternated  with  lovely 
valleys;  leafless  forests,  with  wide  extended  plains.  Far  to 
the  north  rolled  the  peaceful  Ohio,  beyond  which  lay  expanses 
of  a  country  destined  to  be  the  seat  of  empire,  the  home  of  busy 
millions. 

Coming  down  from  the  mountain,  little  suspecting  any  dan 
ger,  the  two  hunters  were  startled  by  a  terrific  yell  just  to  their 
right.  At  the  same  instant  the  bushes  parted,  and  dark  forms 
emerging  quickly,  surrounded  them,  and  they  were  '  taken 
prisoners. 

The  captives  were  as  yet  ignorant  of  Indian  customs.  They 
knew  not  one  word  of  the  language.  As  the  howling  captors 
bound  them  and  marched  them  off  to  the  forest,  Boone  did  not 
know  but  that  it  might  be  to  his  death.  He  had,  however,  the 
cold  and  self-possessed  temper  which  has  in  all  times  charac 
terized  men  of  action  and  leadership,  a  disposition  which  knows 
no  special  joy  nor  disheartening  depression.  There  was  nothing 
to  be  done  except  to  obey  his  savage  guards. 

Manners  are  an  art.  It  has  been  said  that  there  is  a  mode 
of  conduct  possible  which  will  blind  the  shrewdest  insight  and 
foil  the  most  expert  observer.  The  popular  notion  of  the  art  of 
manners  assumes  that  it  belongs  solely  to  the  refined,  the  ele 
gant;  that  its  home  is  in  society,  and  its  disciples  the  votaries 
of  fashion.  Yet  the  languid  belle  and  the  prancing  dandy  are 
by  no  means  the  only  nor  the  real  experts  in  manners.  The 
shaggy  backwoodsman,  dressed  in  the  skin  of  wild  animals, 
speaking  in  a  peculiar  dialect  of  frontier  phraseology,  and  pass 
ing  his  life  in  restless  warfare  with  a  hideous  and  blood-thirsty 
foe,  practices  the  so-called  parlor  art  with  infinitely  more  zeal 
and  success  than  the  empty-headed  throngs  of  fashionable  society. 

Boone,  on  this  occasion,  revealed  his  superior  skill  in  this 
regard.  Though  his  heart  was  full  of  apprehension,  his 
demeanor  indicated  the  most  fearless  indifference.  He  acted 


MEETING  OF  BOONE  AND  HIS  BROTHER. 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  495 

a  part.  He  had  a  care  for  the  tone  of  his  voice,  the  poise  of 
his  head,  the  length  of  his  step,  the  expression  of  his  eye. 
He  succeeded  in  what  he  was  about.  The  Indians  insensibly 
gave  way  to  the  influence  of  his  manners.  Reading  in  his  eye 
no  fear,  and  in  his  air  no  discontent,  their  vigilance  insensibly 
relaxed.  They  and  their  captive  could  not  exchange  one  single 
word.  It  was  all  pantomine,  or  manners. 

On  the  seventh  night  after  the  capture,  the  Indians  went 
to  sleep.  For  three  days  Boone  had  been  unbound.  At  night 
the'  bonds  had  heretofore  been  replaced.  But  what  need  was 
there  to  tie  a  man  who  was  willing  to  stay  with  them  anyhow. 

Boone,  and  his  companion  escaped.  They  did  not  kill  any 
of  their  guards,  nor  did  they  attempt  it.  It  was  not  a  phys 
ical  achievement,  but  a  mental  one.  They  made  their  way  back 
to  their  cabin.  The  door  was  open.  The  rude  furniture  was 
broken  in  pieces.  There  was  no  fire  in  the  fire-place.  The  stock 
of  skins,  the  fruit  of  six  months'  toil,  was  gone.  There  was  no 
clue  to  their  companions.  The  whole  thing  was  a  mystery,  and 
continued  to  be  so.  To  the  day  of  his  death,  Boone  never 
knew  whether  the  other  men  had  stolen  the  stock  and  made  off 
with  it,  or  whether  they  had  been  killed  by  Indians,  and  the 
cabin  plundered  by  the  murderers. 

There  are  some  rare  joys  in  the  life  in  the  wilderness.  Such 
was  the  accidental  meeting  in  the  wilderness  of  Boone  with  his 
brother,  who,  with  a  companion,  had  also  come  up  to  Kentucky. 
There  are  many  sorrows  in  a  life  in  the  wilderness.  Such  was 
that  which  befell  Boone  when,  a  few  days  later,  he  and  Stuart 
were  pursued  by  Indians,  and  Stuart  was  killed  and  scalped. 

Only  a  week  afterward,  a  still  more  distressing  calamity  hap 
pened.  The  companion  of  Boone's  brother  happened  to  remain 
away  from  the  camp  one  night  on  a  hunt.  Finding,  in  a  day  or 
two,  that  he  did  not  return,  the  two  brothers  began  a  search. 
In  time  they  came  upon  the  remains  of  the  unfortunate  man. 
While  asleep  by  his  fire,  he  was  surrounded  and  attacked  by  a 
troop  of  famished  wolves.  The  stock  of  his  gun  was  shattered 


496  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

from  the  desperate  use  he  had  made  of  it  in  trying  to  beat  back 
the  animals.  At  last,  his  strength  failing,  the  throng  of  brutes 
had  borne  him  to  the  ground,  and  quickly  stripped  the  flesh 
from  his  bones,  which  the  Boones  found  scattered  about.  But 
for  the  gun,  the  remains  would  have  been  beyond  identification. 

Boone  and  his  brother  thus  left  alone  soon  found  their  ammu 
nition  supply  running  low.  The  brother  returned  to  Carolina 
to  procure  a  new  stock  of  powder  and  ball,  leaving  Boone  in 
complete  solitude.  "  I  was,"  he  says,  "  left  by  myself,  without 
bread,  salt,  or  sugar,  without  the  company  of  my  fellow-crea 
tures,  or  even  a  horse  or  dog."  On  the  27th  of  July,  1770,  his 
brother  returned.  He  brought  with  him  two  good  horses,  with 
heavy  packs  of  the  much-needed  supplies.  Not  till  March,  '71, 
did  they  think  of  returning.  During  all  this  time  they  main 
tained  ceaseless  vigilance,  never  making  a  permanent  camp. 
During  his  brother's  absence,  Boone  had  frequently  slept  in  a 
canebrake,  without  fire,  and  heard  the  yell  of  the  Indians 
around  him. 

At  the  date  last  named  Daniel  rejoined  his  family  after  an 
absence  of  three  years,  during  which  he  had  tasted  neither 
bread  nor  salt.  He  came  home  fired  with  the  fever  for  remov 
ing  to  the  new  country.  He  sold  out  his  property,  loaded  some 
horses  and  milch  cows  with  the  necessary  baggage,  and,  amid 
prophecies  of  their  destruction,  started  back  to  the  wilderness 
with  his  wife  and  children. 

His  clear  statements  of  the  advantages  of  the  region  induced 
five  other  families  and  forty  well  armed  men  to  accompany  him. 
The  party  felt  great  confidence  in  its  strength.  Pride  goeth 
before  destruction.  The  party  of  immigrants  were  attacked  by 
Indians  near  Cumberland  Mountain,  and  six  of  their  number 
killed,  among  whom,  to  the  infinite  sorrow  of  the  great  pioneer, 
was  Boone's  eldest  son.  This  reception  so  startled  the  party 
that  they  beat  a  hasty  retreat  to  the  settlements  on  Clinch 
River,  forty  miles  to  their  rear,  where  they  remained  for  sev 
eral  years. 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  497 

In  1774  and  1775  Daniel  Boone  was  engaged  in  the  border 
conflicts  of  the  time.  Only  one  incident  of  his  part  in  these 
struggles  has  been  preserved.  He  was  taken  prisoner  one 
night  by  the  Indians.  He  had  just  extinguished  his  camp-fire, 
wrapped  himself  in  his  blanket,  and  lain  down  to  sleep,  being, 
as  was  his  custom,  on  a  lone  hunt,  when  he  suddenly  felt  him 
self  seized  in  the  darkness  by  a  number  of  hands. 

Resistance  was  useless.  He  was  bound  with  strips  of  buf 
falo  hide,  and  carried  to  the  Indian  camp.  The  squaws  imme 
diately  began  to  search  their  prisoner  for  valuables,  and  they 
soon  drew  forth  a  flask  of  strong  whisky.  Boone  looked  on 
with  secret  joy  as  he  saw  the  bottle  passed  around  from  mouth 
to  mouth.  He  earnestly  wished  that  the  bottle  was  ten  times 
its  size,  and  that  every  drop  might  stretch  a  brave  dead-drunk 
on  the  ground.  He  felt,  to  his  sorrow,  that  there  was  not 
enough  liquor  to  intoxicate  the  company. 

At  that  moment  a  gun  was  heard  in  the  distance.  The 
braves  jumped  up,  held  a  short  talk  with  the  squaws,  pointing 
frequently  to  Boone,  and  then  seizing  their  guns,  hurried  away 
in  the  darkness  to  see  what  the  firing  of  the  gun  meant.  The 
squaws  sat  down  cross-legged  around  the  fire,  and  took  frequent 
drinks  from  the  bottle  until,  one  by  one,  they  sprawled  out  on 
the  ground,  and  went-  sound  asleep. 

It  was  the  time  for  action.  With  the  frontiersman's  inge 
nuity  and  pluck,  Boone  rolled  over  and  over  toward  the  fire, 
held  his  feet  and  then  his  hands  in  the  blaze,  in  spite  of  the 
torture,  until  his  bonds  were  burnt  asunder.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and,  though  severely  burned,  snatched  up  his  rifle  for 
escape.  He  says,  that  at  that  moment  he  was  on  the  point  of 
tomahawking  the  drunken  squaws,  but  on  second  thought 
reflected  that  to  kill  such  defenseless  wretches  would  be  mur 
der,  and  he  desisted.  Devoting  his  tomahawk  to  less  bloody 
work,  he  walked  to  an  ash  sapling,  and  chopped  out  three  large 
chips  to  mark  the  spot.  He  concealed  himself  in  a  canebrake, 
and,  in  a  day  or  two,  made  his  way  home. 


498  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Many  years  afterward  a  gentleman  laid  out  and  purchased 
a  tract  of  several  thousand  acres,  and,  by  chance,  took  as  one 
of  the  corners  of  his  survey  "an  ash  marked  by  three  distinct 
notches  of  the  tomahawk."  Another  series  of  years  rolled  by, 
the  ash  had  grown  until  the  bark  had  completely  covered  the 
marks.  The  land  became  involved  in  litigation.  It  was  impos 
sible  to  find  the  boundary  tree. 

Daniel  Boone,  who  at  that  time  was  living  in  Missouri,  was 
sent  for  to  identify  the  spot.  He  had  almost  forgotten  the  inci 
dent  we  have  related,  but,  after  talking  the  matter  over,  remem 
bered  it.  He  returned  to  Kentucky,  and,  in  company  with  sev 
eral  witnesses,  went  to  the  locality  where  he  had  been  a  pris 
oner  twenty  years  before.  Waiting  until  the  moon  rose,  so  as 
to  reproduce,  as  far  as  possible,  his  surroundings  on  the  night 
of  his  capture,  Boone  started  through  the  woods,  eying  each 
tree  attentively,  and  at  last  stopped  before  a  large  ash,  averring 
positively  that  it  was  the  tree. 

His  companions  examined  the  trunk  closely.  Not  a  mark 
was  to  be  seen  in  the  bark.  The  men  were  skeptical,  but  Boone 
took  an  ax  and  cut  off  a  strip  of  the  bark.  Still  nothing  was 
to  be  seen.  He  then  scraped  and  cut  with  his  butcher-knife, 
until  he  did  come  to  a  place  where  the  tree  had  been  scarred 
a  long  time  before.  The  astonished  men  then  went  to  work, 
scraped  the  whole  trunk  carefully  until  three  hacks,  as  plain  as 
three  notches  ever  were,  could  be  seen.  On  the  strength  of 
this  remarkable  testimony  the  gentleman  who  had  sent  for 
Boone  won  his  lawsuit. 

In  the  spring  of  1775  Boone  and  some  companions  were 
employed  to  guard  a  company  of  surveyors  through  Kentucky. 
The  party  had  two  battles  with  the  Indians,  losing  eleven  of 
their  number.  These  attacks  suggested  the  necessity  of  build 
ing  a  small  fort,  lest  the  Indians  should  little  by  little  destroy 
the  whole  party.  For  two  weeks  the  men  worked  with  unre 
mitting  toil  in  the  construction  of  a  block-house  on  the  Ken 
tucky  River,  to  which  the  name  of  Boonesborough  was  eventu- 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  499 

ally  given.  Beside  the  block-house  several  cabins  were  built, 
and  the  whole  surrounded  by  a  palisade. 

When  the  work  was  done  it  looked  so  strong,  so  secure ;  it 
was  such  a  snug  retreat  from  all  the  dangers  of  the  forest,  that 
Boone  resolved  to  bring  his  family  there.  He  returned  to  the 
settlement  on  the  Clinch  River,  and  at  once  started  with  Mrs. 
Boone  and  her  daughters  for  the  new  fort  in  Kentucky.  The 
women  of  Boone's  family  were  the  first  white  women  who  ever 
looked  upon  the  Kentucky  River.  A  few  months  prior  to  the 
founding  of  Boonesborough  James  Harrod  had  erected  a  block 
house  at  Harrodsburg.  These  two  places  soon  became  famous 
as  the  only  refuge  from  the  savages  south  of  the  Ohio. 

Boone's  family  had  a  lonely  life.  Yet  the  excitement  in 
which  they  lived,  growing  out  of  constant  danger  from  wild 
animals  and  Indians,  took  the  place  of  companionship.  Three 
more  families  soon  came  to  make  their  home  in  the  fort.  After 
a  few  months'  residence,  the  women  of  the  place  were  accus 
tomed  to  venture  outside  of  the  palisade  for  short  distances. 

One  July  day,  Jemima  Boone,  with  two  girls  named  Gal 
loway,  growing  weary  of  the  cramped  quarters  of  the  palisade, 
*took  a  canoe,  and  crossed  the  Kentucky  River  to  a  point  where 
the  overhanging  trees  formed  a  dense  and  pleasant  shade.  The 
cool  retreat  afforded  an  agreeable  relief  from  the  heat  of  a  July 
day.  These  pioneer  girls  had  few  pleasures,  and  the  little 
diversion  was  all  the  more  enjoyed. 

While  floating  lazily  in  the  water,  sometimes  splashing  with 
their  paddles,  five  Indians  hid  themselves  near  by.  The  girls 
were  unconscious  of  any  impending  danger,  until  they  discov 
ered  that  their  boat,  propelled  by  an  unseen  force,  was  moving 
into  a  leafy  nook  out  of  sight  of  the  fort.  Looking  for  the 
cause,  they  discovered  in  front  of  them  the  head  of  an  Indian. 
He  was  swimming  with  all  his  might  with  the  tying  rope  of  the 
boat  in  his  teeth.  The  girls  screamed  at  the  top  of  their  voices. 
They  were  heard  at  the  fort.  The  men  were  scattered  through 
the  forest,  busy  with  their  usual  occupations. 


500  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Before  any  thing  could  be  done  to  rescue  the  girls,  the 
Indians  had  seized  them  and  started  off  through  the  forest  at 
the  top  of  their  speed.  It  was  nearly  two  hours  before  word 
of  the  horrible  mishap  could  be  sent  to  the  men  of  the  fort 
and  a  party  of  sufficient  strength  made  up  to  attempt  a  rescue. 
Those  hours  seemed  ages.  The  women  at  the  fort  wrung  their 
hands  in  agony,  while  the  one  man  who  happened  to  be  there 
hurried  off  to  find  help.  When  Boone  at  last  got  started  with 
eight  companions,  the  Indians  were  several  miles  in  advance. 

Darkness  came  on,  but  the  pursuers  caught  no  glimpse  of 
the  chase.  All  through  the  night  the  white  men,  with  a  skill 
which  we  of  the  present  day  can  neither  explain  nor  understand, 
followed  the  trail  of  the  savages.  Some  time  during  the  follow 
ing  night  the  ruffians  were  discovered.  They  were  attacked 
and  driven  off  before  they  had  time  to  kill  their  fair  prisoners. 
Two  of  the  Indians  were  killed,  while  Boone's  party  was  unin 
jured.  The  poor  girls  were  overjoyed  at  their  rescue,  and  the 
glad  welcome  which  they  received  at  the  fort  on  their  return 
may  well  be  imagined. 

The  wandering  band  of  Indians  who  had  captured  the  three 
girls  was  a  precursor  of  a  host  of  warriors  who  were  on  their 
way  to  destroy  the  white  settlements.  Two  hundred  braves 
surrounded  Boonesborough,  and  for  two  days  attempted  to  cap 
ture  the  place.  They  retreated  only  to  renew  the  attempt  a  few 
days  later.  Now  and  then  some  defender  of  the  fort  was  killed, 
so  that  the  garrison  was  depleted  to  fifteen  men.  The  Indians 
fought  with  great  boldness.  Under  cover  of  night,  they  stole 
up  to  the  gates  of  the  fort,  and  attempted  to  hew  them  down 
with  their  tomahawks.  The  arrival  of  a  hundred  men,  under 
Colonel  Bowman,  coming  to  the  relief  of  Boonesborough,  Har- 
rodsburg,  and  Logan's  Fort,  suddenly  put  an  end  to  the  siege. 

The  wants  of  the  little  community  could  not  be  supplied 
without  some  exposure  and  risk.  The  dangers  of  hunting  were 
great.  Behind  each  tree  or  log  might  lurk  a  savage.  A  still 
greater  danger  was  the  procurement  of  salt.  In  January,  1778, 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  503 

Boone  took  thirty  men  to  the  Blue  Lick,  to  make  salt  for  all 
the  different  stations  in  Kentucky. 

It  is  related  that  one  day  he  had  wandered  some  distance 
from  his  party,  and  was  suddenly  confronted  by  two  stalwart 
Indians.  Boone  threw  himself  behind  a  tree,  and  cautiously 
exposed  a  small  portion  of  his  body,  to  attract  their  aim.  An 
Indian  fired,  and  Boone  dropped  as  if  killed.  To  make  the 
second  savage  throw  away  his  shot,  Boone  repeated  the  trick, 
and  while  the  two  Indians  were  hurriedly  attempting  to  reload, 
rushed  out  and  deliberately  shot  the  foremost  savage.  He  then 
advanced  upon  the  other  Indian. 

The  white  man  relied  on  his  knife,  the  Indian  on  his  toma- 
.hawk.  Boone  planted  his  foot  on  the  corpse  of  the  dead  sav 
age,  and  awaited  the  attack  with  resolute  eye  and  compressed 
lips.  His  antagonist  advanced,  and  with  the  well-known,  quick, 
circular  movement,  was  about  to  bury  his  hatchet  in  the  white 
man's  brain.  At  the  instant,  when  the  Indian's  arm  was  lifted, 
Boone,  quick  as  lightning,  plunged  his  knife  into  his  exposed 
side.  There  was  a  spurt  of  hot  blood  which  crimsoned  the 
hand  upon  the  knife  handle,  a  convulsive,  despairing  groan. 
The  hatchet  descended,  but  slipped  from  the  nerveless  grasp 
and  stuck  in  the  ground.  The  Indian  threw  his  hands  to  his 
side  in  vain  attempt  to  stop  the  crimson  tide,  bestowed  one  look 
of  unutterable  malignity  and  hopelessness  upon  the  man  who 
still  stood  confronting  him  with  the  bloody  hand  and  knife  yet 
held  aloft,  then  fell  to  rise  no  more. 

On  the  7th  of  February  Boone,  while  out  hunting,  discov 
ered  a  war  party  of  a  hundred  Indians  approaching  him.  He 
took  to  flight,  but  being  then  a  man  beyond  the  prime  of  life, 
and  somewhat  stiff  from  exposure,  he  was  unable  to  contend 
with  the  swift  braves  who  pursued  him.  He  was  captured  and 
taken  back  to  the  lick,  where  he  found  his  whole  party  of 
twenty-seven  men  prisoners  like  himself. 

At  this  point  we  note  a  significant  fact.  The  Indians 
neither  tortured  their  prisoners  nor  offered  to  put  them  to  death. 


504  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  conflict  with  the  white  man  was  a  recent  thing  with  the 
tribes  so  far  west.  Boone  and  his  companions  were  taken  to 
the  Indian  town  of  Chillicothe.  As  usual,  Boone's  mild  and 
patient  character  made  its  impression  upon  the  savages.  While 
his  courage  excited  the  admiration  of  the  fiercest  brave,  his 
gentleness  touched  the  heart  of  the  humblest  squaw.  His 
knowledge  of  human  nature  also  helped  him.  Sometimes  he 
was  invited  to  engage  in  shooting  matches  with  the  Indians. 
On  such  occasions  he  usually  took  care  to  plant  his  bullets  a 
little  wider  from  the  mark  than  the  Indians,  lest  he  should  excite 
their  animosity  by  beating  them. 

In  the  spring  Boone  was  taken  to  Detroit.  Here  Governor 
Hamilton  himself  offered  £100  for  his  ransom,  but  so  strong 
was  the  affection  of  the  Indians  for  their  prisoner  that  they 
refused  to  consider  it.  Several  English  gentlemen,  touched 
with  sympathy  for  the  misfortunes  of  the  old  pioneer,  made 
pressing  offers  of  money  and  other  articles ;  but  old  Boone, 
with  sturdy  independence,  refused  to  receive  benefits  which  he 
could  never  return.  In  this  incident  we  discover  the  character 
of  Boone's  reputation.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  the  Revolution 
ary  War.  Yet  the  Englishmen  recognized  Boone  as  a  non- 
combatant.  The  Indians  themselves  knew  that  he  was  not  an 
Indian  fighter.  He  was  simply  and  truly  a  pioneer. 

Boone  was  taken  back  to  Chillicothe,  only  to  be  terrified  by 
the  preparation  of  a  great  war-party  for  an  attack  on  Boones- 
borough.  His  anxiety  on  account  of  his  wife  and  children 
became  intolerable.  He  resolved,  at  every  risk,  to  attempt  an 
escape  so  as  to  warn  them  of  the  impending  danger.  Early 
one  morning  he  started  from  Chillicothe,  directing  his  course 
toward  Boonesborough.  He  traversed  the  one  hundred  and 
sixty  miles  in  four  days,  during  which  time  he  ate  but  one  meal 
and  slept  none. 

Just  at  sunset  he  came  in  sight  of  the  fort.  The  gates 
were  open.  Some  women  were  leisurely  milking  the  cows  on  a 
pleasant  stretch  of  turf  some  distance  from  them.  A  little 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  505 

further  off  a  man  was  chopping  wood.  The  whole  place  looked  to 
the  returned  captive  like  a  bit  of  Acadia.  Every  thing  wore  an  air 
of  peace  and  quiet,  as  if  danger  were  the  farthest  thing  from  the 
minds  of  the  little  company  of  pioneers.  Boone,  hoarse,  hag 
gard,  disfigured  by  Indian  paint  and  costume,  his  eyes  glaring 
wildly  from  their  sunken  sockets,  shouted  to  the  people  to  come 
into  the  fort.  At  the  apparition  waving  its  arms  in  the  twi 
light,  the  people  made  haste  to  follow  its  advice,  fleeing  wildly 
to  the  gates  as  if  it  were  a  wild  man. 

A  moment  later  old  Boone  was  recognized.  A  shout  of 
welcome  went  up.  Receiving  the  greetings  of  his  friends,  he 
told  them  in  a  few  short  words  of  their  danger,  ordered  every 
person  outside  the  gates  to  be  called  in,  and  preparation  to  be 
made  for  an  Indian  attack.  This  done,  he  looked  anxiously 
around  for  his  family.  A  hard  disappointment  awaited  him. 
Wife  and  daughters,  giving  him  up  for  dead,  had  returned  to 
North  Carolina,  taking  all  his  property  with  them.  Swallowing 
his  chagrin,  Boone,  after  a  rest,  went  to  work  with  a  will  to  repair 
and  strengthen  the  fort.  Traces  of  lurking  Indians  could  be 
seen  in  the  surrounding  woods,  spies,  no  doubt,  upon  the  fort. 
Their  reports  must  have  been  bad,  as  the  Indian  invasion  was 
not  forthcoming. 

In  the  previous  September,  Simon  Kenton  had  abandoned 
his  cabin  at  Washington,  Kentucky,  and  seeing  a  white  man 
who  told  him  that  a  settlement  had  already  been  made  in  the 
interior  at  a  place  called  Boonesborough,  had  repaired  to  this 
place.  He  was  overjoyed  to  find  a  substantial  fort,  and  was 
greeted  by  Boone  himself. 

Kenton  was  a  valuable  accession  to  the  place.  It  was  on 
the  failure  of  the  Indian  invasion  to  materialize  that  Boone 
resolved  on  his  expedition  against  the  Indian  village  at  Paint 
Creek.  We  have  elsewhere  mentioned  the  fact  of  Boone's 
retreat,  on  finding  that  his  advance  was  discovered,  and  have 
related  the  adventures  of  Kenton,  who  resolved  to  go  on  with 
his  friend  Montgomery. 


506  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Boone's  reason  for  retreat  was  the  conviction  that  the  whole 
Indian  force  were  now  on  their  way  to  Boonesborough,  and  that 
the  condition  of  the  fort  and  of  his  own  party  was  extremely 
critical.  He  hurried  back,  and  fell  in  with  the  trail  of  a  great 
Indian  war-party  headed  directly  towards  Boonesborough.  Mak 
ing  a  wide  detour  to  avoid  the  savages,  and  traveling  night  and 
day,  he  and  his  men  reached  the  fort  on  the  evening  of  the 
seventh  day,  in  advance  of  the  Indians. 

On  the  following  morning,  five  hundred  warriors  appeared 
before  the  fort.  They  were  commanded  by  British  officers. 
The  ensuing  siege  was,  in  fact,  an  obscure  chapter  in  the  Revo 
lutionary  War.  A  demand  for  surrender  was  made,  accompanied 
by  the  significant  and  cruel  hint  that,  if  hostilities  ensued,  the 
handful  of  British  officers  would  hardly  be  able  to  restrain  the 
Indians  from  massacring  the  members  of  the  garrison  should 
they  be  taken  prisoners.  Boone  asked  two  days  to  consider. 
The  request,  strange  to  say,  was  granted. 

The  intervening  time  was  busily  employed  in  strengthening 
the  fort.  Every  man  resolved  to  die  in  its  defense  rather  than 
surrender.  When  Boone  informed  the  British  commander  of  his 
decision,  the  latter  said  that  he  meant  no  harm  to  the  settlers, 
and  that  if  nine  of  the  p  al  men  would  come  out  of  the 

fort  and  treat  with  him,  he  |d  his  Indians  would  at  once  go 
away.  For  some  unexplained  reason,  Boone  assented  to  this 
proposal,  and,  with  eight  picked  men,  emerged  from  the  fort, 
and  was  soon  surrounded  by  throngs  of  hideous  braves.  Some 
sort  of  "a  treaty"  was  pretended  to  be  patched  up. 

Boone  and  his  friends  prepared  to  return,  when  the  British 
commander  said  that  it  was  an  invariable  custom  of  the  Indians 
at  the  close  of  a  treaty  for  two  warriors  to  take  hold  of  either 
hand  of  each  white  man.  The  Indians  at  once  proceeded  to  act 
on  the  hint.  The  white  men,  who  were  not  surprised  by  the 
movement,  flung  off  their  assailants,  and  started  for  the  fort. 
The  men  at  the  latter  place,  who  were  looking  on  with  deep 
anxiety,  instantly  fired  upon  the  Indians,  under  cover  of  which 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  507 

the  nine  men  reached  the  fort  and  barred  the  gates.     Only  one 
of  their  number  had  been  wounded  in  this  scrimmage. 

A  siege  of  nine  days  followed.  Every  attack  by  the  Indians 
resulted  in  the  Igss  of  many  of  their  braves,  while  the  whites 
suffered  but  little.  The  fort  stood  sixty  yards  from  the  river 
bank.  The  enemy,  foiled  in  their  other  efforts,  commenced  to 
dig  a  mine  from  the  river  bank  into  the  fort.  One  morning 
Boone's  quick  eye  detected  the  discoloration  of  the  river  from 
the  fresh  earth  thrown  into  it,  and  instantly  divined  the  state 
of  affairs.  A  deep  trench  was  cut  by  the  garrison  under  the 
palisade  and  then  in  front  of  the  fort  so  as  to  intersect  the 
approaching  mine.  This  stratagem  forced  the  Indians  to  aban 
don  their  attempt.  At  last,  foiled  in  every  effort,  the  savages 
withdrew.  This  was  the  last  siege  Boonesborough  ever  sus 
tained.  It  occurred  in  the  summer  of  1778. 

In  the  fall  of  this  year,  Boone,  who  was  piqued  at  the  facil 
ity  with  which  his  family  had  given  him  up  for  lost,  returned 
to  North  Carolina.  He  was  detained  here  by  family  troubles 
until  1780,  when  he  again  returned  to  Boonesborough  with  his 
wife  and  daughters. 

Shortly  after  his  return,  Boone  and  his  brother  went  to  Blue 
Licks,  where  he  had  been  taken  captive,  and  were  surprised  by 
Indians.  The  brother  was  killed  and  scalped.  Boone  fled, 
urged  on  by  a  relentless  pursuit.  The  Indians  had  with  them 
a  remarkable  dog,  which  tracked  Boone  incessantly,  and  pre 
vented  his  concealing  himself.  The  situation  was  critical.  Every 
twist  and  turn  he  made  was  detected  by  his  pursuers,  who 
were  guided  by  the  dog.  At  last  Boone  calmly  paused,  and 
waited  till  the  animal  should  come  in  sight.  It  was  a  hazard 
ous  thing  to  stop  with  the  Indians  so  near.  In  a  moment  the 
dog  came  bounding  toward  him,  with  a  great  red  tongue  lolling 
from  his  mouth,  and  uttering  loud  and  mournful  bays.  At  that 
moment  Boone  fired,  and  killed  the  brute.  Then,  under  cover 
of  the  forest  and  approaching  night,  he  made  his  escape. 

Somewhere  about  this  time  in  Boone's  career,  he,  with  a  few 

28 

\ 


508  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

companions,  was  surprised  in  the  woods  by  a  large  party  of 
Indians.  The  whites  were  eating  their  breakfast,  and  the  sav 
ages  sat  down  near  by  without  hostile  demonstrations,  and  pre 
tended  to  prepare  their  own  meal,  acting  as  if  they  were  com 
pletely  ignorant  of  the  presence  of  Boone.  The  latter  cautioned 
his  men  in  an  undertone  to  be  prepared  for  a  fight  at  any 
moment.  Boone  then  walked  toward  the  Indian  chief  unarmed, 
and  intently  gnawing  the  meat  from  a  bone.  The  savage,  who 
was  also  eating,  licked  his  greasy  fingers,  and  rose  to  greet 
Boone.  The  latter  asked  to  see  a  knife,  with  which  the  Indian 
was  cutting  his  meat.  Boone  took  the  long  knife,  and  with  a 
dexterous  juggle,  aifected  to  swallow  it,  concealing  it  at  the 
same  time  in  his  sleeve. 

The  Indians  looked  on  with  wide-eyed  astonishment,  while 
Boone  struck  his  stomach,  pronouncing  the  knife  very  good.  In 
a  few  moments  he  went  through  another  contortion,  and  appar 
ently  vomited  forth  the  knife,  which  he  wiped  on  his  sleeve  and 
returned  to  the  Indian.  The  latter  took  it  cautiously  between 
his  thumb  and  forefinger,  and  flung  it  into  the  bushes,  as  if  the 
thing  were  contaminating.  The  whole  party  of  savages  then 
instantly  broke  and  ran,  regarding  Boone,  no  doubt,  as  the 
devil  himself. 

Kentucky  was  filling  up  rapidly  with  settlers.  Numerous 
other  stations  besides  Boonesborough  and  Harrodsburg  afforded 
refuge  from  savages.  For  a  year  or  two  the  country  was  freB 
from  Indian  hostilities.  The  settlers,  busy  with  their  farms, 
began  to  hope  that  the  wars  with  the  savages  were  over.  In 
1782,  however,  the  tempest  of  destruction  broke  forth  again. 
Numerous  isolated  outrages  were  committed  by  Indians. 

In  the  spring,  twenty-five  savages  sneaked  up  to  Estill's 
station,  entered  a  cabin  somewhat  apart  from  the  rest,  and  after 
outraging  a  woman  and  her  two  daughters,  brutally  murdered 
them.  A  few  moments  later  some  women  of  the  settlement  dis 
covered  the  tragedy  which  had  been  enacted.  The  men  of  the 
place  were  nearly  all  absent,  searching  for  this  very  band  of 


THE  DA  Y>S  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  509 

Indians.  Word  was  with  difficulty  conveyed  to  Captain  Estill, 
who  commanded  the  squad  of  pioneers.  On  receiving  the  infor 
mation,  instant  pursuit  was  resolved  on.  Five  men,  anxious 
about  their  families,  returned  to  the  station.  Ten  more  were 
soon  left  behind  on  account  of  their  jaded  horses. 

The  party,  reduced  to  twenty-five  men,  pushed  on,  and  over 
took  the  Indians,  whose  number  was  exactly  the  same.  The 
battle,  which  is  memorable  in  the  annals  of  pioneer  warfare,  took 
place  at  a  small  stream,  on  the  opposite  banks  of  which  the  com 
batants  were  posted.  For  an  hour  the  loss  on  both  sides  was 
equal.  The  Indians  fought  with  the  pertinacity  and  coolness  of 
the  whites  themselves.  It  seemed,  as  the  battle  continued,  that 
nothing  remained  except  to  fight  until  all  the  men  on  each  side 
were  killed.  Estill  resolved  on  a  stratagem.  Six  men  were 
ordered  to  attempt  a  flank  movement.  They  were,  however, 
utterly  destroyed  in  the  effort.  The  Indians  now  pressed  their 
foes  hard.  Estill,  himself,  became  engaged  in  a  terrible  hand- 
to-hand  struggle  with  the  Wyandot  chief.  Each  man  made  furi 
ous  exertions  to  overpower  his  adversary.  The  friends  of  each 
dared  not  fire  for  fear  of  wounding  the  wrong  man. 

At  last,  a  mishap  of  the  most  serious  character  occurred. 
Estill  had  in  the  year  before  broken  his  arm.  In  this  combat, 
the  bones,  imperfectly  knitted,  came  apart.  As  the  arm  gave 
way,  Estill  gave  a  cry  of  despair,  and  the  next  instant  the 
Indian  sunk  a  knife  into  his  heart.  The  triumph  of  the  sav 
age  was  short.  Just  as  he  shook  the  gory  scalp  in  air,  a  rifle 
ball  laid  him  in  the  lowly  dust  beside  his  fallen  foe.  The  whites 
fled,  bearing  wild  reports  of  the  numbers  of  the  Indians  to  the 
agitated  settlements.  Panic  and  defeat  seemed  about  to  over 
whelm  the  pioneers.  Band  after  band  met  the  fate  of  Estill's 
company. 

In  August  came  the  famous  attack  of  Simon  Girty,  on  Bry 
ant's  station,  on  the  southern  bank  of  the  Elkhorn,  between 
Maysville  and  Lexington,  Kentucky.  The  garrison  of  the  place 
was  about  to  march  to  the  relief  of  Hoy's  station.  Just  as  the 


510  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

gates  were  thrown  open,  a  volley  of  rifle-balls  rattled  against 
the  sides  of  the  fort.  No  weakening  of  the  garrison  was  to  be 
thought  of;  instead,  preparations  for  a  siege  had  to  be  made 
at  once.  Their  greatest  peril  in  case  of  a  siege  arose  from  a 
scarcity  of  water.  The  spring  on  which  they  depended  was 
some  distance  away  from  the  fort.  In  a  neighboring  wood, 
signs  of  an  ambush  could  be  detected. 

A  council  was  held  in  the  fort,  and  it  was  suggested  that 
all  the  women  get  buckets,  and  go  down  to  the  spring  after 
water,  as  if  no  ambush  was  suspected.  The  Indians,  believ 
ing  themselves  undiscovered,  would  hardly  attack  a  party  of 
squaws,  when  by  waiting  longer,  some  of  the  fighting  part  of 
the  garrison  might  be  ambuscaded  at  the  spring.  This  plan 
was  adopted.  Only  one  thing  was  wanting.  This  was  the 
women's  consent.  Sharp  words  were  indulged  in.  They  did 
not  see  why  the  men  could  not  go  after  the  water.  At  last, 
some  of  the  stronger  and  more  sensible  women  took  a  practical 
view  of  the  situation,  and  seizing  their  buckets,  started  boldly 
to  the  spring.  The  others  followed  with  fear  and  trembling. 
On  they  went,  defenseless  and  frightened,  to  within  a  short 
distance  of  the  deadly  ambush,  where  five  hundred  Indians 
lay  concealed. 

The  buckets  were  filled  with  assumed  deliberation,  and  the 
trembling  procession  of  females  started  back  to  the  fort.  As 
they  crossed  the  wide,  open  space  their  steps  quickened,  until 
every  woman  was  in  a  dead  run  for  the  gates.  Though  pale 
with  fear,  they  reached  the  fort  without  having  been  molested. 
As  had  been  surmised,  the  Indians  withheld  their  attack  in  the 
belief  that  some  of  the  men  of  the  fort  could  be  caught  at  the 
spring  before  long. 

Meanwhile  an  Indian  decoy  party  had  appeared  on  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  fort.  Thirteen  men  went  out  and  attacked  them, 
a  maneuver  which  at  once  brought  the  whole  Indian  force  upon 
the  opposite  side  of  the  fort,  which  they  believed  to  be  unpro 
tected.  Heavy  volleys  of  rifle-shots  poured  into  them  at  point- 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  511 

blank  range,  destroyed  their  delusion,  and  the  Indians  fled  to 
the  woods.  A  regular  battle  was  now  begun. 

At  two  o'clock  a  diversion  occurred.  Two  messengers  had 
carried  the  news  of  the  attack  to  Lexington,  near  which  a  com 
pany,  on  its  way  to  Hoy's  station,  was  met,  and  its  course  changed 
to  Bryant's  station.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  this  re- 
enforcement  reached  the  vicinity  of  the  fort.  The  Indians,  dis 
covering  their  approach,  attempted  to  cut  them  off.  The  horse 
men  spurred  on  through  clouds  of  dust,  and  made  their  way  into 
the  fort.  Those  on  foot  were  not  so  fortunate.  Finding  them 
selves  about  to  be  destroyed,  they  took  to  a  corn-field  and 
attempted  to  escape.  Some  succeeded,  but  several  were  cut 
down  in  their  flight.  In  the  evening  Girty  called  on  the  place 
to  surrender.  A  man  named  Reynolds  replied  from  the  fort 
with  taunts  and  insults,  which  put  Girty  in  a  terrible  rage. 

In  the  morning  the  men  looked  out  through  the  palisades 
toward  the  spot  where  the  Indians  had  encamped  the  night 
before,  and  were  astonished  to  find  the  place  entirely  deserted. 
The  enemy  was  in  full  retreat.  Re-enforcements  also  began  to 
pour  into  the  fort,  among  them  a  strong  company  under  Daniel 
Boone,  from  Boonesborough.  Each  little  party  which  arrived 
had  a  leader,  and  among  the  multitude  of  counselors  arose  a 
discussion,  which  ended  in  a  unanimous  resolve  not  to  wait  for 
General  Logan,  who  with  a  strong  force  was  marching  to  Bry 
ant's,  but  to  commence  pursuit  of  the  Indians  at  once. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  18th  of  August,  1782,  began  the 
fatal  march.  The  trail  of  the  Indians  was  very  plain.  Here 
and  there  the  enemy  had  chopped  bits  out  of  the  trees.  These 
signs  made  Boone  and  a  few  others  cautious,  as  they  indicated 
no  anxiety  to  conceal  retreat,  but  rather  the  reverse.  At  the 
Lower  Blue  Licks  the  whites,  on  the  following  day,  came  in 
sight  of  the  enemy.  The  pursuers  were  gathered  on  the 
southern  bank  of  the  Licking  River.  On  the  opposite  side  a 
small  group  of  savages  could  be  seen  standing  on  the  top  of  a 
ridge.  They  coolly  stared  at  the  whites,  and  then  disappeared. 


512  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

A  hurried  consulation  was  held  as  to  what  should  be  done. 
The  men  were  now  a  long  way  from  any  point  of  support. 
The  country  was  wild  and  lonely,  well  adapted  for  ambuscades. 
The  enemy  was  largely  superior  in  strength  to  the  whites. 
Boone  advised  a  return  or,  at  least,  a  halt,  until  Logan's  force 
could  come  up  with  them.  The  discussion  continued,  when  sud 
denly  Hugh  McGary,  whose  fierce  and  impetuous  temper  chafed 
at  delay  or  deliberation  when  Indians  were  so  near,  gave  a  loud 
yell  for  "all  who  are  not  cowards"  to  follow  him.  At  the  same 
instant  he  spurred  his  horse  into  the  stream. 

The  example  was  contagious.  Calm  deliberation  was  at  an 
end,  and  the  whole  company  crowded  pell-mell  after  him. 
Through  the  river  and  up  the  opposite  ridge  they  rushed  in 
confused  tumult.  They  hurried  along  the  trail  about  a  mile, 
burning  with  the  reckless  zeal  which  the  rash  McGary  had 
inspired.  Suddenly  a  party  of  Indians  confronted  them  and 
fired.  The  place  was  inauspicious  for  the  whites.  They  were 
on  open  ground,  while  the  foe  occupied  a  ravine,  filled  with  a 
dense  growth  of  trees  and  bushes.  This  ravine  flanked  the 
ridge  from  which  the  whites  fought. 

A  severe  battle  at  once  began.  The  lagging  settlers  hurried 
to  the  front  to  the  support  of  their  companions.  As  soon  as 
the  Indians  saw  the  whites  well  bunched  together,  a  strong 
party  of  several  hundred  warriors  started  to  throw  themselves 
in  their  rear  and  cut  off  retreat.  The  movement  was  easy  and 
on  the  point  of  success.  The  whites,  seeing  their  peril,  broke 
and  ran  back  toward  the  river.  The  scene  was  awful.  The 
battle  of  Blue  Licks  was  really  a  slaughter.  The  Indians  fell 
upon  the  fugitives,  outnumbering  them  ten  to  one,  and  toma 
hawking  them  not  singly,  but  by  dozens. 

At  the  moment  of  the  retreat,  Boone,  who  was  in  the  front 
of  the  fight,  and  had  already  seen  his  son  and  many  neighbors 
killed,  found  himself  and  a  few  friends  surrounded  by  savages, 
and  retreat  hopelessly  cut  off.  Thoroughly  acquainted  with  the 
ground,  he  spurred  forward  boldly  into  the  ravine  which  the 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  513 

Indians  had  occupied,  finding  it,  as  he  expected,  almost  deserted. 
By  a  roundabout  course  he  reached  the  Licking,  crossed  it  at  a 
remote  point,  and  reached  the  settlements  in  safety. 

At  the  ford  the  Indians  plunged  into  the  water,  falling  upon 
and  scalping  their  unhappy  victims,  and  then  letting  the  corpses 
float  away,  leaving  behind  a  crimson  trail  in  the  blue  water. 
There  was  no  selfishness  among  the  whites.  Those  who  were 
able  boldly  helped  their  companions.  Young  Reynolds,  who 
had  given  Girty  the  insult  from  the  walls  of  the  fort,  was 
•mounted  on  a  fine  horse.  Half-way  to  the  ford  he  overtook 
Captain  Patterson,  a  man  infirm  from  former  wounds,  and  in 
his  flight  on  foot  in  good  way  to  be  killed.  With  kingly  gen 
erosity  Reynolds  sprang  to  the  ground,  placed  his  protesting 
friend  in  the  saddle,  and  continued  his  own  flight  on  foot.  He 
saved  his  friend,  but  was  taken  prisoner. 

He  was  at  first  guarded  by  three  Indians,  but  the  excite 
ment  of  the  pursuit  was  so  fascinating  that  two  of  the  savages 
turned  their  prisoner  over  to  the  third  one,  and  eagerly  ram  on 
to  take  part  in  the  fray.  Reynolds  marched  quietly  on,  under 
the  eye  of  his  captor,  who  carried  a  tomahawk  and  loaded  rifle. 
But  when  the  Indian  stooped  down  for  a  moment  to  tie  his 
moccasin,  Reynolds  leaped  on  him,  stunning  him  with  terrific 
blows  from  his  fists,  and  instantly  disappeared  in  a  thicket, 
making  his  way  home  in  safety. 

The  survivors  of  the  battle  of  Blue  Licks  spread  terror 
among  the  sorrowing  settlements.  Sixty  of  the  picked  men  of 
Kentucky  had  been  slain,  and  a  number  taken  captives.  It  was 
a  time  when  every  man  was  worth  much  to  the  new  commu 
nity.  On  the  second  day  after  the  slaughter  General  Logan,  with 
four  hundred  and  fifty  men,  visited  the  fatal  spot,  and  interred 
the  swollen  and  disfigured  bodies  of  the  dead.  Blue  Licks  was 
the  most  unlucky  spot  Boone  ever  knew.  Here  he  had  been 
taken  captive,  and  kept  so  for  many  months.  Here,  too,  his 
brother  had  been  killed  before  his  eyes,  while  he  himself  barely 
escaped  with  his  life.  And  here,  at  last,  his  son  Israel,  together 


514  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

with  sixty  of  his  neighbors  and  friends,  had  fallen  in  the  battle 
we  have  just  described.  He  subsequently  took  part  in  an 
expedition  against  the  Indian  towns  of  Ohio,  but  without  results. 

Here  Boone's  adventures  close.  We  have  no  record  that  he 
ever  figured  in  any  subsequent  fight  with  the  Indians.  He 
remained  for  some  years  a  quiet  farmer.  As  the  years  rolled 
on  and  his  old  friends,  one  by  one,  passed  away,  he  became 
lonely,  and,  to  some  extent,  unhappy.  The  country  in  which 
he  had  been  a  pioneer  grew  and  developed  into  a  splendid  State 
of  fertile  farms  and  thrifty  towns.  Political  questions  succeeded 
the  old  agitations  of  the  border  wars. 

But  in  all  this  Boone  took  no  part.  He  wandered  around — 
in  the  present,  but  not  of  it.  In  1792  he  dictated  a  brief  and 
rather  dry  sketch  of  his  life  to  some  young  man  who  could 
write.  The  young  scribe  palmed  off  some  cheap  rhetoric  on 
the  old  man,  who,  no  doubt,  regarded  it  as  thrilling  eloquence. 
He  was  never  so  happy  as  when  some  one  would  take  the  book, 
in  which  his  name  appeared  "in  print,"  and  read  it  to  him.  He 
never  wearied  of  it.  Innumerable  times  the  dull  book  was  read 
over  to  him,  and  he  never  failed. to  listen  with  intense  interest, 
rubbing  his  hands  and  exclaiming,  "All  that 's  true — every  word 
of  it — not  a  lie  in  it !"  He  never  spoke  of  himself  unless  ques 
tioned,  but  this  published  account  of  his  life  was  the  Delilah  of 
his  imagination. 

The  last  years  of  Boone  were  strikingly  like  those  of  Simon 
Kenton,  George  Rogers  Clark,  and  many  others  of  the  earliest 
settlers.  The  brave  and  heroic  race  of  pioneers  seemed  to  have 
no  capacity  for  adapting  themselves  to  the  new  and  changed 
conditions  of  life  which  surrounded  them.  Their  rigid  and 
unyielding  disposition,  which  refused  to  yield  to  circumstances, 
but  viewed  the  advancing  tide  of  civilization  with  sullen  and 
morose  regrets,  has  in  it  something  ^f  the  very  nature  of  the 
red  men,  in  fighting  whom  they  passed  their  lives. 

Boone  became  embarrassed  and  involved  in  lawsuits,  lost  all 
his  property,  and,  at  last,  heartsore  and  unhappy,  took  his  way 


THE  DAYS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.  515 

to  Missouri.  Here,  in  the  wilderness,  he  once  more  found  com 
parative  peace.  He  hunted  and  trapped,  selling  his  furs  at  St. 
Louis,  till  he  had  laid  up  a  considerable  sum. 

One  day  he  reappeared  at  Boonesborough.  He  spent  no 
time  in  reminiscence  or  pleasure,  but  with  an  expression  on  his 
face  which  indicated  that  he  had  some  important  task  to  per 
form,  which  would  never  let  him  rest  until  it  was  accomplished, 
sought  out  all  his  creditors,  took  their  word  for  the  amount 
which  was  owing  to  them,  and  paid  them  all  off  in  full.  This 
done,  the  honest  old  man  shouldered  his  gun,  and  trudged 
back  to  Missouri.  His  face  wore  a  brighter  look  than  for  some 
time.  He  took  long  hunting  and  trapping  expeditions  to  the 
north-west,  to  the  sources  of  the  Missouri  River.  On  one  occa 
sion  he  was  on  the  Osage  River,  and  was  taken  dangerously  ill. 
His  only  companion  was  a  negro  lad.  One  pleasant  day  he 
managed  to  crawl  out  of  his  cabin,  and  marked  out  the  spot 
where  he  wished  the  boy  to  bury  him.  He  did  not  die,  how 
ever,  but  lived  to  meet  with  further  reverses. 

The  title  which  he  had  acquired  through  the  Spanish  gov 
ernment  to  certain  Missouri  lands  was  declared  invalid,  and  at 
the  age  of  seventy-six  the  venerable  pioneer  again  found  him 
self  without  one  acre  in  all  the  boundless  domain  which  he  had 
explored.  He,  however,  maintained  his  sweetness  of  temper, 
and  in  1812,  petitioned  the  Legislature  of  Kentucky  to  use  its 
influence  with  Congress  for  the  confirmation  of  his  Spanish  title 
to  ten  thousand  acres  of  land.  The  request  was  granted,  but 
Congress  hesitated,  and,  after  long  delay,  confirmed  in  him  the 
title  to  one  thousand  acres  of  land,  unmarketable  at  two  cents 
an  acre.  Before  this  tardy  and  insufficient  act  of  justice  was 
done,  his  faithful  wife,  who  had  followed  him  through  so  many 
years  of  adventure,  passed  away.  From  that  time  he  lived 
with  his  son,  passing  his  days  in  meditative  rambles  through 
the  forests.  At  the  advanced  age  of  eighty- two  years  he  went 
on  a  hunting  expedition  of  more  than  two  hundred  miles. 

In  1819  a  distinguished  artist  visited  Boone  at  his  dwelling 


516  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES, 

near  the  Missouri,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  his  portrait,  and 
found  him  in  a  "  small,  rude  cabin,  indisposed,  and  reclining  on 
his  bed.  A  slice  from  the  loin  of  a  buck,  twisted  about  the 
ramrod  of  his  rifle,  within  reach  of  him  as  he  lay,  was  roasting 
before  the  fire.  Several  other  cabins,  arranged  in  the  form  of 
a  parallelogram,  were  occupied  by  the  descendants  of  the 
pioneer.  Here  he  lived  in  the  midst  of  his  posterity.  His 
withered  energies  and  locks  of  snow  indicated  that  the  sources 
of  existence  were  nearly  exhausted." 

He  died  September  26,  1820,  at  the  home  of  his  son-in-law, 
in  Flanders,  Galloway  County,  Missouri,  being  then  eighty-seven 
years  old. 

Daniel  Boone  is  the  most  honored  of  all  the  pioneers  of  the 
Ohio  valle*y.  This  is  as  it  should  be.  The  gentleness  and 
humanity  which  pervaded  his  life  stand  out  in  marked  contrast 
with  the  fierceness  and  brutality  which  characterized  so  many 
of  the  borderers.  He  was  a  true  pioneer. 

Governor  Morehead,  in  a  memorial  address  on  the  life  and 
services  of  Daniel  Boone,  has  said :  "  His  life  is  a  forcible 
example  of  the  powerful  influence  a  single  absorbing  passion 
exerted  over  the  destiny  of  an  individual.  Possessing  no  other 
acquirements  than  a  very  common  education,  he  was  enabled, 
nevertheless,  to  maintain  through  a  long  and  useful  career,  a 
conspicuous  rank  among  the  most  distinguished  of  his  contempo 
raries.  He  united,  in  an  eminent  degree,  the  qualities  of 
shrewdness,  caution,  courage,  and  uncommon  muscular  strength. 
He  was  seldom  taken  by  surprise,  he  never  shrank  from  danger, 
nor  cowered  beneath  the  pressure  of  exposure  and  fatigue.  His 
manners  were  simple  and  unobtrusive — exempt  from  the  rude 
ness  characteristic  of  the  backwoodsman.  In  his  person  there 
was  nothing  remarkably  striking.  He  was  five  feet  ten  inches 
in  height,  and  of  robust  and  powerful  proportions.  His  counte 
nance  was  mild  and  contemplative.  His  ordinary  habits  were 
those  of  a  hunter.  He  died  as  he  lived,  in  a  cabin,  and  perhaps 
his  trusty  rifle  was  the  most  valuable  of  all  his  chattels." 


GNADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORAVIAN  MASSACRE.          517 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

GNADENHUTTEN    AND   THE    MORAVIAN   MASSACRE. 

T  is  not  for  us  to  go  back  to  the  dim  obscurity 
of  the  middle  ages,  or  even  to  the  dreadful 
epoch  of  religious  wars  and  religious  persecu 
tions  following  them,  to  trace  the  unnappy  his 
tory  of  the  peaceful  sect  which  we  know  as  the 
Moravians.  We  look  back  no  further  than  to 
see  a  band  of  unfortunate  exiles  offered  and 
accepting  a  resting-place  on  the  ample  estate 
of  a  young  German  nobleman,  Count  Zinzendorf.  Here  the 
weary  outcasts,  burning  with  the  purest  spiritual  devotion,  built 
a  town.  When  their  membership  reached  six  hundred,  the 
little  society  became  transfigured  with  a  sublime  missionary 
zeal.  They  longed  to  carry  the  Gospel  of  Peace  to  the  darkest 
spots  of  earth,  and  by  simple  appeals  and  the  example  of  pure 
and  blameless  lives  to  win  men  from  wars  and  wickedness  to 
peace  and  virtue.  So.  amid  prayerful  farewells,  many  of  the 
brethren  and  sisters,  the  very  flower  of  the  congregation,  set 
out  from  the  little  German  village  on  diverse  paths.  Some  of 
the  pious  missionaries  went  to  the  West  Indies,  some  to  Green 
land,  some  went  to  the  distant  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  where,  under 
southern  skies,  they  toiled  among  the  savage  Hottentots ;  others 
took  their  way  to  the  regions  of  everlasting  snow  and  ice, 
where  their  converts  were  the  fur-clad  and  blubber-eating 
Esquimaux.  Of  the  fortunes  of  these  heroic  missionaries  it  is 
for  others  to  tell  the  history. 


518  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

It  was  natural  that  the  simple-minded  Moravians  should 
turn  their  prayerful  hearts  to  the  fierce  Indians  of  America. 
The  stories  of  their  enormous  stature,  their  hideous  cannibal 
ism,  their  appalling  blood-thirstiness  and  cruelties,  which  floated 
in  distorted  fragments  to  the  placid  Moravian  community,  instead 
of  deterring  them  only  impressed  more  deeply  on  their  minds  the 
midnight  darkness,  the  infinite  needs  of  the  poor  savages.  So 
they  sought  the  New  World — pale-faced  scholars  and  slender 
nuns,  weak  in  every  thing  but  their  sublime  faith  and  utter 
forgetfulness  of  self.  A  mere  outline  of  the  tragic  history  of 
the  Moravian  missions  in  America  but  poorly  represents  the 
toils,  the  hardships,  the  sufferings,  the  sickness,  the  deaths, 
which  from  the  first  was  the  lot  of  the  frail  missionaries. 

Their  first  attempts  were  made  in  Georgia,  in  1732.  After 
seven  years  of  labor,  in  which  time  they  had  managed  to  build 
a  tolerably  comfortable  settlement,  a  war  broke  out  between 
England  and  Spain.  The  fierce  Cherokees  became  involved  in 
it.  The  poor  missionaries  had  to  abandon  the  product  of  those 
seven  years  of  weary  toil,  and  fly  for  their  lives.  Their  next 
location  was  in  Pennsylvania,  where,  in  the  process  of  time, 
they  founded  several  settlements  to  which  they  gave  such 
gentle  names  as  Nazareth,  Bethlehem,  Nain,  Gnadenhutten 
(Tents  of  Mercy),  and  Friedenshutten  (Tents  of  Peace). 

At  the  same  time  that  the  tired  wanderers  commenced  anew 
their  labors  in  Pennsylvania  some  of  their  number  pushed  on 
into  New  York  and  Connecticut.  A  small  settlement  was 
founded  in  each  State,  on  the  lands  of  the  white  people.  Little 
by  little,  the  pious  missionaries  won  a  handful  of  converts  from 
the  Indians  around  them,  perhaps  fifty  or  sixty  in  each  place. 
These  Christian  Indians  came  and  settled  with  the  missiona 
ries,  leading  settled  and  upright  lives.  They  worked  in  the 
field,  assembled  for  morning  and  evening  worship,  and,  catch 
ing  the  fire  from  the  burning  hearts  of  the  Moravians,  labored 
to  win  others  of  their  race  from  habits  of  war,  indolence,  and 
drunkenness. 


PERSECUTIONS  OF  THE  MORAVIANS. 


519 


GNADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORA  VIAN  MASSACRE.  521 

But  if  the  Moravians  were  saints,  their  white  neighbors  were 
devils.  These  latter  spared  no  pains  to  tempt  the  converts  with 
rum,  and  to  destroy  the  influence  of  the  missionaries  with  lies. 
They  drove  the  Moravians  from  their  fields  with  open  violence. 
This  was  not  all.  They  circulated  reports  through  the  prov 
inces  that  the  pale-faced  preachers  were  French  spies,  and  were 
laboring  to  detach  the  Iroquois  from  the  English.  The  gentle 
missionaries  were  dragged  before  justices  of  the  peace,  petty 
tyrants,  whose  criminal  jurisdiction  has  always  been,  and  yet 
remains,  an  intolerable  and  outrageous  shame.  They  were 
dragged  about  from  place  to  place  for  examination,  thrown  into 
prison,  and  subjected  to  cruel  insults.  The  ministry  of  other 
Churches  joined  the  hue  and  cry  against  the  martyrs,  and 
denounced  them  as  papists.  These  men,  whose  sect  had  un 
dergone  every  species  of  infernal  persecution  and  torture  from 
the  Catholic  Church,  upon  whom  the  fagot,  sword,  and  thumb 
screw  had  been  used  without  mercy,  were  publicly  accused  of 
being  papists  !  The  devil  must  have  thrust  his  tongue  into  his 
cheek  and  almost  exploded  with  infernal  laughter  at  the  mon 
strous  joke.  Still  worse,  men  declared  that  the  Brethren  had 
three  thousand  stand  of  arms,  with  which  they  intended  to  arm 
the  Iroquois  in  the  interest  of  France. 

Such  an  uproar  was  raised  that  the  governor  of  New  York, 
on  December  15,  1744,  sent  a  sheriff  and  three  justices  of  the 
peace  to  notify  the  Brethren  that  they  were  prohibited  from 
holding  any  further  meetings,  and  further  ordering  them  to 
appear  before  the  governor.  Nothing  was  developed,  except 
that  the  missionaries  were  conscientiously  opposed  to  taking 
oaths.  The  assembly  at  once  passed  a  law  prohibiting  any 
person  from  living  in  the  province  who  refused  to  take  an  oath. 
Two  of  the  leading  missionaries,  men  of  eminent  piety,  on  their 
way  from  Bethlehem  to  the  Iroquois  confederacy,  were  arrested, 
taken  to  New  York,  thrown  into  a  loathsome  prison  cell,  and 
kept  there  seven  weeks.  Let  us  remember  that  these  things 
were  done  in  our  own  country.  Let  us  learn  from  the  bitter 


522  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

past.  Let  us  resolve,  earnestly  and  honestly  to  rebuke  super 
stition  and  religious  intolerance  wherever  we  find  it,  and  at 
every  cost  to  keep  our  courts  free  from  partisan  and  political 
prejudice. 

The  sequel  is  evident.  The  New  York  and  Connecticut  mis 
sions  were  given  up.  Amid  a  hooting  mob,  the  ministers  of 
peace  and  their  poor  ignorant  converts,  who  were  no  doubt  con 
fused  and  troubled  at  the  dark  and  devious  ways  of  the  white 
man,  humbly  marched  away  to  join  their  brethren  in  Pennsyl 
vania.  In  a  material  way  the  Pennsylvania  settlements  had 
much  greater  prosperity.  The  towns  were  laid  out  regularly, 
with  smooth,  broad  streets.  At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  the 
Brethren  at  Bethlehem  owned  nearly  a  hundred  buildings,  all  of 
stone,  and  of  picturesque,  though  simple,  architecture.  Among 
these  was  a  large  church,  from  whose  belfry  a  sweet  chime  of 
bells  sounded  a  musical  call  to  morning  and  evening  worship. 
There  was  also  the  "  Home  for  Single  Brothers,"  and  at  a  little 
distance,  surrounded  by  trees,  the  pretty  "  Home  for  Single 
Sisters,"  as  well  as  a  third  companion  building,  the  "  Home  for 
Widowed  Sisters."  Here  in  their  sober  garments,  with  white 
aprons  and  white  linen  head-dress,  the  neat  Moravian  nuns  plied 
their  busy  fingers.  The  buzz  of  the  spinning-wheel  and  the 
rattle  of  the  old-fashioned  loom  never  ceased.  The  spacious 
buildings  and  tidy  rooms  were  neatly  though  plainly  furnished, 
and  not  a  speck  of  dirt  was  allowed  on  the  premises.  Each 
inmate  had  a  separate  bed  of  scrupulous  whiteness. 

Around  the  picturesque  village  many  a  hundred  acre  field 
of  grain  flashed  in  the  sunlight.  The  whole  community  was 
ideal,  such  as  one  reads  about  in  fiction.  During  the  hour's 
rest  at  noontide,  the  laborers  would  snatch  up  musical  instru 
ments,  and  fill  the  air  with. quaint,  rich  melodies.  These  plain 
people  were  skilled  musicians.  The  place  also  contained  the 
finest  artisans  in  America.  In  all  Europe  could  not  be  obtained 
such  rarely  ornamented  pistols,  such  accurate  watches,  and  such 
ingenious  embroidery.  A  fine  water  works  was  a  part  of  the 


ONADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORAVIAN  MASSACRE.  523 

product  of  the  skill  and  industry  of  the  Brethren.  European 
travelers  went  wild  over  the  rare  and  curious  souvenirs  to  be 
bought  at  Bethlehem. 

Perhaps  nothing,  however,  added  so  much  to  the  reputation 
of  the  place  as  its  inn  and  hostelry.  In  all  America  there  was 
not  another  such  haven  of  rest  for  the  tired  traveler.  The  build 
ing  was  a  large  and  handsome  stone  structure,  with  commodious 
sleeping  rooms,  and  beds  for  which  no  praise  was  too  high.  The 
table  was  all  that  could  be  desired.  It  abounded  in  the  rarest 
mountain  trout,  the  sweetest  venison  and  partridges,  together 
with  famous  beef  and  mutton,  and  the  fattest  poultry.  Of  the 
vegetables  and  fruits  there  was  no  end,  and  at  no  other  table 
in  America  was  to  be  found  such  rarely  flavored  wines,  and  such 
famous  brands  of  other  liquors.  It  is  evident  that  the  simple 
and  abstemious  Brethren  knew  well  how  to  minister  to  their 
more  worldly  guests. 

To  this  pleasant  retreat  the  president  of  Congress,  in  per 
son,  brought  the  young  Marquis  de  La  Fayette  when  he  was 
wounded.  Here  he  lay  for  two  months,  under  the  care  of  the 
gentle  sisters.  As  he  afterwards  said,  they  were  the  two  hap 
piest  months  of  his  life.  Here,  also,  came  another  stranger, 
Count  Pulaski,  asking  in  broken  English  for  his  friend  La  Fay 
ette.  For  Pulaski,  it  was,  that  the  Moravian  nuns  embroidered 
an  elegant  silk  banner. 

In  addition  to  this  material  prosperity,  the  gentle  strangers 
made  many  converts  from  the  Indians.  These  would  settle 
near  them  in  peaceful  communities,  strangely  contrasted  with 
the  wild  villages  in  which  they  had  been  born  and  reared. 
They  were  faithful  even  unto  death. 

But  the  pleasant  picture  of  Bethlehem  and  its  surroundings 
is  by  no  means  the  only  thing  to  be  described.  Troubles  there 
were  for  the  Moravians,  on  which  we  have  twice  already 
touched.  We  have  seen  the  massacre  at  the  first  Gnadenhut- 
ten,  on  Mahony  Creek,  in  November,  1755.  We  have  also  seen 
how,  during  the  ferocities  of  the  border  warfare  of  1763,  the 


524  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Christian  Indians  were  removed  for  safety  to  Philadelphia. 
These  Indians  were  the  poor,  surprised  converts,  gathered  in 
quiet  little  settlements,  near  Bethlehem.  Sheep  gathered  near 
their  shepherds.  We  have  given  a  brief  sketch  of  their  suffer 
ings,  of  the  cruel  mob  which  mocked  their  sorrows,  and  insulted 
their  weakness;  of  the  terrible  journey  toward  New  York;  of 
the  peremptory  refusal  to  admit  them  to  the  province,  and  the 
weary  return  to  Philadelphia.  Even  this  was  not  the  end  of 
their  misfortunes.  The  small-pox  broke  out  among  them  in  the 
barracks,  and  carried  off  large  numbers.  In  the  midst  of  these 
afflictions,  their  missionaries  stayed  with  them,  offering  the  com 
fort  and  solace  which  is  from  above.  The  poor  outcasts 
remained  faithful  to  the  end.  Suffering  wrung  from  them  only 
prayers.  The  plague  itself  only  inspired  the  unhappy  converts 
to  new  praises  for  God's  providence.  For  more  than  a  year  they 
were  cooped  in  the  unhealthy  Philadelphia  barracks.  Much  of 
the  time  the  guards  with  difficulty  protected  them  from  the 
ruffians  of  the  city.  Far  more  dangerous  would  it  have  been 
for  them  in  their  homes.  The  Moravians  themselves  were 
regarded  by  the  borderers  as  French  sympathizers,  if  not  spies. 
Several  of  the  settlements  where  the  Indians  had  lived  were 
laid  in  ashes  by  furious  rangers,  from  whom  the  inhabitants 
themselves  had  barely  escaped.  Even  the  mills  and  expensive 
water-works  at  Bethlehem  wrere  set  on  fire  by  incendiaries. 

At  last  the  glad  word  came  that  the  war  was  over.  The 
doors  of  the  barracks  were  thrown  open.  The  unhappy  Chris 
tians  were  told  to  go  where  they  pleased.  But  where  to  go 
was  a  question.  That  a  return  to  their  former  settlements, 
where  they  would  be  exposed  to  the  ruffians  of  the  border, 
was  highly  dangerous,  and  even  foolish,  was  evident.  The 
wanderers  journeyed  to  Bethlehem,  guided  and  guarded  by  the 
ever  faithful  missionaries.  From  here  it  was  decided  that  they 
should  go  to  Wyoming.  The  journey  thither  was  so  difficult 
that  many  of  the  party  who  had  survived  all  the  sufferings  of 
the  Philadelphia  barracks  died  by  the  way.  At  last  they 


GNADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORAVIAN  MASSACRE.  525 

reached  the  pleasant  shores  of  the  Susquehanna.  Here  they 
industriously  set  to  work  to  clear  and  fence  the  ground  for 
planting.  For  provision,  the  men  killed  such  game  as  they 
could  find,  while  the  women  and  children  gathered  wild  pota 
toes  and  roots,  to  eke  out  the  scanty  meals.  Here,  in  spite  of 
the  hostility  of  the  Six  Nations,  the  antagonism  of  Indian 
prophets  and  conjurors,  and  the  meanness  of  the  white  settlers, 
who  tempted  the  converts  with  rum,  the  Christian  Indians  pros 
pered.  In  the  course  of  seven  years,  their  constant  revivals 
greatly  recruited  their  ranks,  and  tireless  industry  had  built  a 
pleasant  village.  There  were  forty  well-built  houses  of  squared 
logs  and  shingle  roofs,  a  large,  new  church,  "  with  a  neat  cupola 
and  bell  on  top."  The  gardens  were  surrounded  by  paling 
fences,  and  the  young  orchards  were  beginning  to  bear  well. 

Their  enemies,  however,  began  to  annoy  the  regenerated  sav 
ages  greatly.  The  lordly  Iroquois  sold  the  land  on  which  the 
village  was  located  to  English  speculators,  and  had  the  impu 
dence  to  send  two  Spanish  dollars  to  the  Christian  Indians  as 
their  share  of  the  purchase  money.  Surveyors  came  and  pre 
tended  to  lay  out  the  land  for  the  new  owners.  A  thousand 
indications  of  hostility  were  seen.  The  poor  Indians  became 
alarmed.  It  was  evident  that  they  must  leave  their  happy 
settlement,  throwing  away  the  product  of  seven  years'  of  toil, 
and  start  anew  in  some  other  region.  Long  and  prayerful  con 
sultations  were  held.  The  final  resolution  was  taken.  They 
met  to  hold  public  worship  for  the  last  time  in  the  chapel  of 
whiqj3>  they  had  been  so  proud.  A  last  look  was  taken  at  the 
comfortable  houses,  the  neat  gardens,  and  the  rich  fields.  Then 
they,  for  whom  there  seemed  to  be  no  resting  place  on  earth, 
turned  their  faces  toward  the  new  home  in  the  west.  Surely 
it  at  last  would  be  one  of  permanent  peace,  happiness,  and 
security. 

There  were  two  hundred  and  forty-one  persons  in  the  party. 
The  details  of  the  journey  which  have  been  preserved  are  few. 
Some  went  by  boat,  taking  all  the  plows,  pick-axes,  harrows, 

29 


526  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

iron-pots,  and  other  utensils.  The  land  party  had  seventy  head 
of  cattle  to  care  for.  They  waded  tremendous  morasses,  crossed 
steep  and  rocky  mountain  ranges,  waded  and  swam  rivers  with 
out  number.  Many  of  the  party  were  bitten  by  rattlesnakes. 
They  were  stung  by  vicious  insects.  The  measles  broke  out 
among  the  children.  One  faithful  Indian  mother  had  a  poor, 
crippled  son,  whom  she  carried  in  a  basket  on  her  shoulders. 
Day  by  day  she  journeyed  on,  feeling  the  burden  on  her  back 
grow  lighter,  and  that  on  her  heart  grow  heavier,  until  one 
morning  she  found  the  load  all  transferred  to  the  latter.  A 
rude  grave  was  made,  a  simple  prayer  offered,  and  then  the  slow 
procession  moved  on.  One  can  feel  that  mother's  heart  turning 
back  forever  afterward  to  the  little  mound  in  the  wild  wood. 

Their  destination  was  the  banks  of  the  Muskingum  River, 
where  the  Delawares  had  invited  them  to  come.  Worn  and 
weary  they  reached  the  river's  banks,  and  knelt  in  simple 
prayer  of  thankfulness  to  God.  Here  the  new-comers  built 
three  villages,  Shonbrun,  Lichtenau,  and,  in(  memory  of  the 
past,  and  unwittingly  in  prophesy  of  the  future,  a  third,  named 
Gnadenhutten.  They  succeeded,  as  they  had  ever  done.  Shon 
brun  was  the  larger  and  handsomest  of  the  villages  yet  built 
by  the  Christian  Indians.  It  had  sixty  houses.  The  prospect 
for  the  conversion  of  the  entire  Delaware  nation  seemed  bright. 
An  "  infidel "  medicine  man  from  the  Six  Nations,  who  came  to 
argue  with  the  converts,  was  confuted  and  confused.  The  pleas 
ant  state  of  affairs  was  interrupted  by  Lord  Dunmore's  war. 

War  had  always  brought  harm  to  the  Christian  Indians.  The 
hostilities  ended  without  serious  injury  to  the  colony.  It  was 
not  long,  however,  till  the  black  portents  of  the  Revolution 
appeared  in  the  sky.  The  missionaries  explained  the  trouble  to 
the  Delawares,  and  through  the  influence  of  their  chief,  Captain 
White  Eyes,  the  nation  resolved  to  remain  neutral.  This,  of 
course,  was  the  attitude  of  the  Christian  colony.  The  colonies 
invited  the  Delawares  to  come  under  the  protection  of  their 
government,  but  the  recollection  of  the  fate  of  the  Conestogas 


,,...,... 


GNADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORAVIAN  MASSACRE.  529 

and  the  Moravians,  made  them  shrink  from  such  a  protector. 
Yet,  through  1776,  and  the  stormy  time  of  1777,  the  Dela- 
wares  remained  at  home  in  peace. 

The  English,  at  Detroit,  attributed  this  to  the  influence  of 
the  missionaries.  The  Wyandots  three  times  offered  the  war- 
belt  to  the  Delawares.  Finally,  word  was  sent  to  Shonbrun  that 
all  would  be  murdered  unless  they  left  the  place  at  once.  Once 
more  these  sad  children  were  driven  from  home.  The  chapel 
was  torn  down,  that  it  might  not  be  used  for  unholy  purposes, 
and  the  procession  of  exiles  again  wound  through  the  forest,  to 
join  one  of  the  other  settlements.  As  the  terrible  drama  of 
the  border  war  progressed,  the  war  parties  of  Indians  would 
pass  through  the  peaceful  settlements  very  frequently.  Their 
object  was,  perhaps,  to  annoy  the  people  and  excite  the  Dela 
wares,  or,  perhaps,  only  to  get  a  good  meal,  which  they  uni 
formly  demanded,  and  as  uniformly  received.  One  is  not  likely 
to  refuse  some  victuals  to  a  band  of  painted  savages,  armed 
with  rifle  and  tomahawk.  To  have  done  so  would  probably 
have  resulted  in  the  destruction  of  the  settlements.  Yet,  these 
acts  were  liable  to  misconstruction  by  the  bold  Indian  fighters 
of  the  border.  Bitter  experience  had  shown  that  the  Christian 
Indians  would  be  confounded  with  the  general  mass. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  trio  of  deserters  from  Fort  Pitt — McKee, 
Elliot,  and  Grirty — spread  reports  among  the  Delawares  that  it 
was  the  purpose  of  the  Americans  to  kill  every  Indian  in  the 
Ohio  valley,  and  that  an  army  was  then  on  the  march  to  carry 
out  the  plan.  An  official  denial  of  this  lie  was  necessary  in 
order  to  prevent  the  Delawares  from  going  to  war  at  once.  No 
runner  could  be  found  to  carry  the  message  from  Fort  Pitt. 
Heckewelder,  the  Moravian,  undertook  the  dangerous  journey. 
He  arrived  among  the  Delawares  not  a  moment  too  soon,  but 
he  succeeded  in  convincing  them  of  the  falsity  of  the  renegades' 
story.  For  the  present  Captain  White  Eyes,  chief  of  the  peace 
party  among  the  Delawares,  triumphed  over  his  adversaries,  who 
threatened  to  lead  the  tribe  against  the  helpless  frontiers. 


530  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  Moravian  settlements  were  between  two  merciless  fires. 
The  English  commander  at  Detroit  burned  with  suspicion  and 
hostility  toward  the  peaceful  missionaries.  He  rightfully  sus 
pected  them  of  holding  the  Delawares  in  check,  but  he  attrib 
uted  to  them  the  wrong  motive.  As  has  been  said,  the  mission 
aries  were  neutral,  both  in  conduct  and  spirit.  Nevertheless, 
the  petty  annoyances,  the  everlasting  incitements  to  warfare, 
the  harassing  threats,  the  mysterious  inuendoes,  and  the  open 
insolence  of  the  emissaries,  both  white  and  Indian,  compelled 
the  evacuation  of  not  only  Shonbrun,  but  also  of  the  other  set 
tlements.  Shonbrun  was  destroyed.  At  Gnadenhutten,  the 
chapel,  cottages,  barns,  and  gardens  were  left  standing,  unoccu 
pied  and  desolate. 

The  refugees  assembled  at  Lichtenau,  some  thirty  miles 
away.  Here  they  were  packed  into  small  apartments,  crowded 
together  at  scanty  and  insufficient  tables,  and  subjected  to  the 
greatest  discomforts.  Their  cattle,  horses,  and  sheep  were 
herded  in  small  pastures,  designed  for  only  one-third  of  their 
number.  Here,  throughout  the  winter  of  1778-79,  the  unfor 
tunates,  both  human  and  brute,  were  compelled  to  remain. 

As  spring  came  on,  grave  questions  confronted  the  mission 
aries.  The  Christian  Indians,  impatient  with  their  surround 
ings,  longed  to  return  to  the  fertile  gardens  and  tenantless  houses 
which  they  had,  in  their  panic,  abandoned  during  the  previous  year. 
Aside  from  the  motives  which  inspired  these  homesick  creatures, 
the  missionaries  became  aware  of  other  powerful  reasons  for 
dividing  the  Lichtenau  settlement.  The  American  borderers  had 
suffered  severely  during  the  preceding  year.  They  were  now 
waging  an  offensive  warfare.  They  were  pursuing  the  Indian 
war-parties  far  into  the  west.  Many  Indian  warriors  passed 
through  Lichtenau  to  beg  a  meal.  The  whites,  following  their 
trail,  might  at  any  time  be  led  to  the  open  village,  throughout 
the  extent  of  which  scarcely  a  gun  was  to  be  found,  and,  roused 
by  every  feeling  of  hatred  and  indiscriminate  vengeance,  might 
butcher  every  helpless  inmate  of  the  place. 


GNADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORA  VI AN  MASSACRE.  531 

Gladly  did  the  Christian  Indians  return  to  their  old  homes 
at  Gnadenhutten  and  Shonbrun.  For  nearly  two  years  these 
people  considered  themselves  fortunate.  They  were  left  to  till 
their  gardens  in  peace,  with  no  more  alarming  occurrence  than 
the  theft  of  their  live  stock.  Lichtenau,  however,  continued 
to  have  its  troubles.  Captain  White  Eyes,  the  great  peace 
chief  of  the  Delawares,  whose  ambition  and  leadership  had 
always  been  directed  toward  the  civilization  of  his  low 
browed  people,  died.  Deputations  from  distant  tribes,  not 
omitting  the  remote  and  terrible  Cherokees,  visited  the  Dela 
wares.  With  blackened  faces,  with  cruel  thorns  thrust  in  their 
flesh,  and  with  the  sorrowful  eloquence  of  the  forest,  these 
ambassadors  paid  their  tribute  of  grief  to  the  memory  of  the 
great  departed.  If  the  missionaries  omitted  to  prick  themselves 
with  thorns,  paint  themselves  black,  and  utter  lugubrious  howls, 
it  was  not  because  they  were  less  sad  at  the  chieftain's  death. 

Captain  Pipe,  the  rival  of  White  Eyes,  at  once  became  the 
master  spirit  of  his  people.  His  voice  was  lifted  for  open  war. 
The  poor  people  at  Lichtenau  became  the  victims  of  robbery 
and  murder.  So  intolerable  did  their  situation  become,  that,  in 
the  spring  of  1780,  they,  in  turn,  were  forced  to  abandon 
their  place.  With  streaming  eyes,  with  hands  uplifted  to  the 
heavens,  which  seemed  as  brass  above  them,  they  join  in  a 
farewell  service,  then  thrust  the  torch  into  handsome  little 
church  and  settlement,  and  as  the  encircling  flames  leap  upward, 
the  wanderers  turn  their  faces  toward  Gnadenhutten.  Earth 
seemed  to  have  no  resting-place  for  her  most  heroic  children. 

Seven  miles  from  Gnadenhutten,  the  brave  Christian  Indians 
who,  by  their  constancy,  in  the  midst  of  suffering,  to  their  new 
religion,  rivaled  the  martyrs  who  had  preceded  them  by  many 
an  age,  again  began  the  construction  of  a  town.  To  this  the 
simple-minded  people  gave  the  gentle  name  of  Salem.  It  was 
eight  weary  months  in  building.  December  snows  lay  thick 
upon  the  frozen  ground,  the  wild  animals  were  sleeping  benumbed 
in  hollow  trunks  and  hidden  caverns,  and  cutting  blasts  roared 


532  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES.  „ 

loudly  among  the  leafless  branches  of  the  trees,  before  the  refu 
gees  were  again  gathered  around  the  cheery  firesides  of  comfort 
able  homes.  Still,  by  their  removal,  they  gained  one  thing. 
That  thing  was  peace.  By  peace,  we  are  to  understand,  not  a 
life  exempt  from  trouble,  danger,  and  violence,  but  merely  an 
immunity  from  scalp-lifting  and  the  insolent  exactions  of  hostile 
savages.  The  white  people  of  the  frontiers  were  very  attentive. 
Not  a  week  passed  in  which  horses,  cattle,  or  sheep  were  not 
stolen.  These  robberies,  however,  took  place  at  night,  and 
the  polite  plunderers  took  great  care  not  to  disturb  the  sleeping 
settlement. 

The  monotony  of  the  settlers'  lives  was  varied  by  disagree 
able  episodes.  One  day,  when  the  good  missionary  Zeisberger 
was  passing  through  the  forest,  eight  red  ruffians,  headed  by 
the  white  monster  Simon  Girty,  sprang  forward  from  the 
shadow  to  murder  him.  This  was  the  fruit  of  a  wicked  plot,, 
of  which  warnings  had  already  reached  the  settlement.  But 
Zeisberger,  when  told  of  it,  had  simply  lifted  his  eyes  to 
heaven  with  a  prayer  to  the  God  in  whom  he  put  his  trust. 
When  his  friends  urged  him  to  take  precautions,  he  gently 
rebuked  them.  To  such  he  said,  suggestively,  "  God  will  pro 
tect  me."  Either  in  answer  to  the  good  man's  prayer,  or  by 
some  happy  chance,  some  Delawares  passed  by  just  as  the 
murderers  were  about  to  put  the  missionary  to  death.  And 
at  sight  of  the  new-comers,  Girty  and  his  gang  took  to  their 
heels.  Zeisberger  found  in  his  deliverance  a  new  miracle  with 
which  to  excite  the  reverence  of  the  Indians  among  whom 
he  labored. 

This  incident  was  the  first  indication  to  the  missionaries  of 
a  dark  and  far-reaching  conspiracy  for  their  destruction,  more 
portentous  than  any  which  had  yet  alarmed  them.  The  Iro- 
quois  had  been  urged  to  take  in  hand  the  work  of  destruction. 
This  lordly  people  had,  however,  no  mind  to  soil  their  fingers 
with  the  bloody  task.  They  simply  sent  messengers  to  the 
Ojibwas,  Ottawas,  and  Wyandots.  Their  messages  ran  thus : 


GNADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORA  VIAN  MASSACRE.          533 

"  We  herewith  make  you  a  present  of  the  Christian  Indians  on  the 
MusJcingum  to  make  broth  of!' 

The  Wyandots  accepted  the  bloody  gift.  An  expedition  was 
at  once  fitted  out.  On  the  10th  of  August,  1780,  one  hundred 
and  fifty  plumed  and  painted  warriors  appeared  before  the 
startled  town  of  Salem.  They  demanded  an  interview  with 
the  leading  men  of  the  settlement.  Messengers  were  sent  off 
in  the  night  to  Shonbrun  and  to  Gnadenhutten  with  short,  sharp 
information  of  the  danger.  When  Zeisberger  received  the  news 
he  said,  "  It  then  has  the  appearance  as  if  Satan  is  again  about 
to  make  himself  merry  by  persecuting  us." 

The  old  missionary  was  about  correct.  During  the  follow 
ing  day,  the  Indians,  with  re-enforcements,  having  forced  the 
frightened  settlers  to  empty  their  larders  of  their  choicest  con 
tents,  repaired  to  Gnadenhutten  for  the  conference.  Only  the 
chiefs  took  part  in  this.  The  common  Indians  had  a  grand 
drunk,  which  lasted  a  week.  In  this  time  they  frightened  the 
peaceful  Christian  Indians  almost  to  death  by  their  hideous 
threats  and  insults.  The  half  king  of  the  Wyandots  demanded 
that  the  Christian  Indians  should  at  once  leave  their  settlements 
and  go  upon  the  war-path.  To  this  the  unfortunates  replied 
with  tears  and  entreaties.  The  situation  of  the  settlement  was 
critical.  That  the  inhabitants  would  be  murdered  in  case  of 
refusal  to  comply  with  the  demands  of  the  Wyandots  was 
highly  probable. 

The  plan  for  the  murder  of  the  missionaries  was  perfected. 
The  warriors  became  surly  and  threatening.  They  would  bran 
dish  their  hatchets  in  the  faces  of  the  missionaries  with  horrid 
curses.  In  spite  of  their  danger,  the  Christian  Indians  stood  by 
their  bold  refusal.  In  this  crisis,  Zeisberger  delivered  a  power 
ful  and  eloquent  sermon  in  the  hostile  camp.  It  seems  to  have 
had  but  little  effect.  Within  half  an  hour  Zeisberger,  Sense- 
man,  and  Hecke welder  found  themselves  prisoners.  The  settle 
ments  were  panic-stricken.  The  prisoners  were  bound  and 
placed  under  guard.  Poor  Heckewelder,  to  his  anguish,  was 


534  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

shortly  informed  that  forty  Indians  were  going  to  Salem  to  get 
his  wife  and  child.  The  information  was  correct.  At  midnight 
the  party  returned  in  triumph.  Hecke welder's  home  had  been 
entered,  his  wife  and  child  made  prisoners.  The  feather  beds 
had  been  emptied  into  the  yard,  and  sacks  of  coffee,  and  barrels 
of  flour  scattered  through  the  streets. 

For  several  days  these  terrible  scenes  continued.  The  result 
was  inevitable.  For  perhaps  the  fifteenth  time  the  settlements 
of  the  Moravians  were  abandoned.  Gnadenhutten,  Shonbrun, 
and  Salem  were  left  desolate  and  deserted.  Many  head  of  cat 
tle  were  left  behind.  Large  stores  of  provision  remained  in 
the  cellars  of  the  houses.  Many  hundred  acres  of  corn,  almost 
ripe  for  harvest,  were  left  in  the  field  without  a  hand  to  gather 
in  the  abundant  yield. 

The  journey  was  made  partly  by  land,  partly  by  canoes. 
One  night  a  terrific  storm  burst  upon  the  encampment  of 
wretched  refugees.  Even  the  women,  with  babes  in  their  arms, 
stood  knee-deep  in  the  flood  which  covered  their  camping- 
ground.  Large  trees  were  torn  up  by  the  roots.  Others  were 
broken  off  and  carried  by  the  wind  for  an  immense  distance. 
Every  camp-fire  was  put  out.  Alarmed  and  wretched,  the  poor 
people  passed  hour  after  hour  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  amid 
the  convulsions  of  the  elements  and  the  fury  of  the  storm.  This 
was  but  one  of  many  hardships.  Sometimes  the  Indians  cruelly 
struck  the  prisoners,  staggering  under  heavy  packs. 

At  last,  on  the  eleventh  day  of  October,  1781,  they  reached 
their  destination,  on  the  upper  Sandusky  River.  There  the 
Wyandots,  taking  all  the  valuable  provision,  unceremoniously 
left  the  unfortunates  to  shift  for  themselves.  The  situation  was 
full  of  wretchedness.  The  milch-cows  failed  for  want  of  pas 
turage.  Corn  was  only  to  be  had  by  paying  a  dollar  for  two 
or  three  quarts.  Increasing  cold  caused  the  keenest  suffering 
to  the  wanderers,  who  were  encamped  in  the  open  air  in  the 
midst  of  a  vast  and  barren  prairie.  The  very  logs  with  which  to 
construct  houses  had  to  be  dragged  a  great  distance. 


GNADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORAVIAN  MASSACRE.          535 

Leaving  the  others  to  prepare  such  shelter  as  they  could,  the 
four  white  missionaries  were  summoned  to  Detroit,  to  be  tried 
for  treason  to  the  English.  They  made  the  journey  amid  insuf 
ferable  hardships,  arriving  at  Detroit  with  scarcely  a  rag  on 
their  backs,  barefooted,  famished,  and  sick  at  heart.  The  good 
missionaries  made  a  favorable  impression  on  their  judges.  They 
were  not  only  acquitted,  but  sent  back  home  with  generous 
supplies  of  provision,  clothing,  and  blankets.  Their  return  to 
the  rough  camp  on  the  Sandusky  was  the  occasion  of  great  joy. 
A  little  meeting-house  was  built.  Heckewelder  writes  :  "  The 
Christmas  holydays,  notwithstanding  our  poverty,  were  cele 
brated  with  cheerfulness  and  a  blessing,  and  the  year  concluded 
with  thanks  and  praises  to  Him  who  is  ever  the  guardian  and 
savior  of  his  people." 

The  memorable  year  of  1782  opened  with  disasters  which 
formed  true  omens  of  the  sad  events  which  were  near  at  hand. 
The  cold  became  insupportable.  Fire-wood  was  almost  wholly 
wanting.  At  every  thaw  the  water  forced  itself  into  the  floor- 
less  cabins.  The  cattle  dropped  dead  from  starvation.  Suck 
ling  babes  perished  for  want  of  nourishment  from  their  mothers' 
impoverished  breasts.  One  pint  of  corn  a  day  was  the  allow 
ance  to  each  person.  In  spite  of  this  destitution,  bullying 
Wyandots,  and  even  Simon  Girty  himself,  would  force  their 
way  into  the  cabins  of  the  unhappy  people,  and  insolently 
demand  the  preparation  of  .a  good  meal. 

These  hardships  led  the  Christian  Indians  to  a  desperate 
resolve.  They  determined  to  make  their  way  back  to  Gnaden- 
hutten,  gather  the  corn  left  standing  in  the  fields,  and  bring 
supplies  to  their  starving  families.  They  set  out  at  once  on 
their  journey,  leaving  those  behind  to  count  the  weary  days  till 
their  return.  Arrived  at  Gnadenhutten,  they  commenced  the 
work  of  gathering  the  corn.  Some  was  stored  in  holes  in  the 
ground.  Quantities  were  put  up  in  packs  for  transportation. 
They  were  on  the  point  of  beginning  their  return  trip,  when 
four  Sandusky  warriors  met  them  with  alarming  news.  This 


536  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

quartet  of  savages  had  captured  a  white  woman  and  her  child 
and  put  them  to  death.  The  whites  had  found, the  mangled 
remains,  and  were  in  full  pursuit  of  the  murderers.  Before  the 
Christian  Indians  had  made  their  start  homeward,  a  party  of 
two  hundred  enraged  borderers  dashed  into  Gnadenhutten. 
Their  hands  were  already  reddened  with  the  murder  of  two 
half-bloods  on  the  outskirts  of  the  settlement.  Of  this,  the 
Indians,  scattered  through  their  corn-fields,  were  ignorant.  One 
party  of  Indians  surrendered  at  once  on  the  promise  that  they 
would  be  taken  to  Pittsburgh.  No  one  suspected  the  bloody 
intentions  of  the  whites.  The  innocent  Christian  Indians  were 
completely  deceived.  The  whites  represented  themselves  as 
devout  Christians.  They  took  a  pious  interest  in  the  meeting 
house,  and  solemnly  inquired  as  to  the  state  of  the  Indians' 
souls.  Their  only  wish  was  to  have  the  Indians  lay  down  their 
arms  and  go  with  them  to  Pittsburgh,  where  their  hardships  and 
sufferings  would  be  over,  and  where  they  would  be  joined  by 
their  friends  from  the  Sandusky. 

To  this  plan  the  unsuspecting  Indians  gave  a  joyous  assent. 
The  designing  whites  induced  them  to  send  messengers  to  Salem 
and  elsewhere,  to  summon  their  companions  to  assemble  at  Gna 
denhutten.  These  simple-hearted  people  fell  into  the  snare.  No 
sooner  were  they  all  at  Gnadenhutten,  and  disarmed,  than  the 
conduct  of  the  whites  underwent  a  sudden  change.  The  Indians 
were  informed  that  they  were  prisoners.  They  were  accused  of 
having  stolen  property  from  the  white  people  of  the  frontiers. 
They  were  charged  with  having  massacred  the  settlers.  They 
were  impeached  for  sympathy  with  the  British,  and  for  treach 
ery  to  the  Americans.  The  borderers  heaped  upon  them  insults, 
and  with  the  most  frightful  curses  struck  one  after  another  of 
the  unresisting  people  to  the  ground. 

The  Christian  Indians  were  informed  that  they  must  die. 
To  the  protestations  of  innocence  and  prayers  for  mercy  the 
black-hearted  and  enraged  borderers  turned  an  ear  of  stone. 
The  condemned  saw  that  their  doom  was  fixed.  Faithful  even 


GNADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORA  V1AN  MASSACRE.  537 

in  death  to  the  religion  which  had  involved  them  in  such  suf 
fering:  which,  while  it  had  opened  their  eyes  to  the  truth,  had 
only  led  them  into  an  unending  career  of  misery,  they  begged  a 
short  respite  in  which  they  might  make  a  last  sad  preparation 
for  death.  The  request  was  granted.  Asking  pardon  for  what 
ever  offense  they  had  given  or  grief  they  had  occasioned,  they 
kneeled  down,  offering  fervent  prayers  to  God,  and  kissing  one 
another  under  a  flood  of  tears,  they  commended  their  souls  to 
the  Savior,  their  great  exemplar  in  suffering. 

A  farewell  song,  which  they  had  been  singing,  was  scarcely 
finished,  when  one  of  the  murderers  picked  up  a  cooper's  mal 
let.  "  This,"  said  he,  "  will  exactly  suit  our  purpose."  A 
deadly  hatred  glittered  in  his  unfeeling  eye.  With  a  hasty 
stride  forward  he  dashed  out  the  brains  of  the  nearest  Indian, 
whose  eyes  were  closed  and  hands  uplifted,  as  he  still  knelt  in 
prayer.  Not  an  Indian  stirred  as  the  murderer  proceeded  down 
the  line.  Again  and  again  he  performed  the  act  of  murder, 
until  a  row  of  fourteen  ghastly  corpses  marked  his  bloody 
path.  Breathless  with  the  awful  work,  he  tossed  the  mallet  to 
a  companion,  saying,  "  Go  on  with  the  glorious  work.  I  have 
done  pretty  well." 

This  was  but  the  opening  scene  in  the  tragedy.  The  flood 
gates  of  murder  were  open.  The  tide  would  have  its  way. 
Old  men  and  young  men,  loving  mothers,  gentle  maidens,  and 
unconscious  babes,  innocent  in  the  -sight  of  earth  and  heaven, 
meek  and  unresisting  as  lambs  led  to  the  slaughter,  were  mas 
sacred  outright.  Ninety  persons  were  put  to  death  within 
a  half  an  hour.  Sixty-two  of  the  number  were  grown  per 
sons,  the  remainder  laughing  bright-eyed  children.  Only  two 
captives  escaped  the  massacre.  One  crept  under  a  plank  in 
the  floor,  and  lay  concealed,  while  the  blood  of  his  compan 
ions  dripped  through  the  open  cracks  upon  his  face.  The 
other,  though  knocked  down  and  scalped,  was  not  killed.  After 
nightfall,  he  crept  through  a  small  window  and  stole  away. 
Another  boy  was  unable  to  get  out  at  the  window,  on  account 


538  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

of  his  size,  and  was  left  imprisoned  until  the  building  was  fired 
and  the  crackling  flames  released  his  soul  from  earth. 

Glutted  with  their  deeds  of  vengeance,  finding  no  more 
work  for  their  reddened  hands  to  do,  the  monsters  reluctantly 
withdrew  to  the  shades  of  the  neighboring  forest.  One  of 
them,  as  if  unsatisfied,  returned  to  feast  his  fiendish  eyes  upon 
the  horrid  scene.  At  that  moment,  a  youth,  mangled  and 
bloody,  was  lifting  himself  upon  his  hand.  A  smile  of  gratifi 
cation  crossed  the  white  man's  face  as  he  buried  his  tomahawk 
in  the  brain  of  the  unfortunate.  As  night  drew  on,  the  houses 
of  the  settlement  were  fired.  Henceforth  the  peaceful  name  of 
Gnadenhutten  was  to  stand  as  the  title  of  the  place  which  the 
wrath  of  man,  insane  and  wicked,  had  given  over,  without  right 
or  reason,  to  fire  and  blood. 

Days  and  weeks  passed  by,  and  still  the  scene  of  slaughter 
remained  a  solitude.  The  flowers  of  spring  blossomed  out  in  all 
their  old-time  fragrance  and  beauty.  The  somber  forests  were 
embowered  in  soft,  green  foliage  as  rich  and  lovely  as  before. 
The  sunny  skies  of  May  were  just  as  blue,  the  waving  verdure  of 
the  prairies  had  just  as  bright  an  emerald  hue,  the  gentle  breezes 
of  the  spring  were  just  as  balmy  as  when  the  humble  converts 
of  the  Moravian  missions  looked  out  upon  the  landscape  with 
happy  faces  and  grateful  hearts.  The  awful  crime  had  left  no 
stain  upon  the  face  of  nature.  Its  only  record  was  the  unburied 
skeletons  of  the  slain.  Years  have  come  and  gone,  until  a  cen 
tury  has  rolled  its  ponderous  wheels  around.  Other  genera 
tions  of  men,  ignorant  or  thoughtless  of  the  past,  now  popu 
late  the  accursed  spot  of  the  slaughter.  Only  now  and  then 
does  some  curious  reader  peruse  the  red  pages  of  the  story  of 
the  massacre. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  fellow  the  career  of  the  missionaries 
and  their  converts,  which  were  left  on  the  Sandusky  River. 
They  endured  this  blow,  as  they  had  all  others,  without  a  mur 
mur  against  the  God  they  worshiped.  It  was  not  long,  however, 
before  they  were  compelled  to  abandon  their  settlement.  Again 


MORAVIAN  MISSIONARIES  AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


GNADENHUTTEN  AND  THE  MORAVIAN  MASSACRE.  541 

and  again  they  sought  to  find  a  resting  place;  sometimes  in 
Canada,  sometimes  in  the  territory  of  the  States,  once  even 
near  the  site  of  the  fated  Gnadenhutten.  But  in  no  place  did 
their  neighbors  permit  them  to  remain  longer  than  two  or  three 
years,  and  often  scarcely  as  many  months.  No  less  than  seven 
removals  are  recorded  after  the  massacre.  At  last,  even  the 
invincible  courage  and  sublime  faith  of  the  missionaries  wavered. 
The  converts,  already  weary  with  the  conflict  with  their  external 
foes,  were  attacked  by  internal  enemies.  Skepticism,  heathen 
ism,  and  savage  passions  fought  hand-to-hand  with  the  Christian 
faith  of  the  proselytes.  A  few  remained  faithful.  Some  suc 
cumbed.  After  so  many  years  of  suffering,  the  western  mis 
sions  of  the  Moravians  were  abandoned.  Some  twenty-five 
times  since  they  came  to  America  had  these  peaceful  ministers 
been  driven  from  their  settlements,  which  they  had  founded 
with  infinite  pain  and  toil.  The  odds  of  ignorance,  brutality, 
and  wickedness  were  too  great.  Such  of  the  pious  missionaries 
as  had  survived  the  struggle  made  their  way  back  to  the 
peaceful  Bethlehem.  They  had  gone  out  from  there  young, 
vigorous,  full  of  faith.  They  returned  gray-headed,  bent  with 
age  and  exposure,  disappointed  and  defeated. 


542  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  CRUELTIES  OF  GIRTY. 

OR  the  traitor  there  has  been  erected  in  every 
age  and  country  a  pillar  of  historic  infamy. 
By  whatever  name  he  is  known,  apostate,  ren 
egade,  turncoat,  or  Tory,  mankind  have  for  him 
one  universal  expression  of  contempt.  His 
name,  of  all  historic  characters,  is  buried  the 
deepest  in  the  inire.  He  becomes  a  by-word, 
a  hissing,  a  reproach  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth.  For  him  no  curse  is  bitter  enough,  no  oblivion  black 
enough.  He  lives  in  the  midst  of  the  fiercest  passions  which 
darken  the  human  heart.  He  is  a  hater  and  the  hated.  The 
rage  which  he  excites  among  the  followers  of  the  cause  which 
he  has  deserted  is  only  equaled  by  the  disgust  and  secret 
loathing  which  he  inspires  among  the  partisans  of  the  cause 
which  he  has  joined. 

Of  all  enmities,  that  of  the  apostate  is  most  bitter.  Of  all 
hatreds,  that  of  the  renegade  is  most  bloody.  Within  him  rage 
storms  of  wrath,  without  him  storm  tempests  of  calumny. 
When  the  occasion  for  his  shame  has  passed,  and  he  is  no  longer 
useful  to  the  ranks  of  which  he  became  the  dishonored  recruit, 
he  is  sent  without  the  camp.  He  is  spurned  as  a  viper.  He  is 
shunned  as  a  leper.  He  is  despised  as  a  devil. 

Another  man  fights  and  falls  in  the  cause  of  wrong,  yet  to 
him  mankind  accords  the  laurels  of  heroism.  Upon  his  tomb 
the  historian  inscribes  the  legend,  "He  was  mistaken,  but  he 
was  great."  From  that  time  on  his  error  is  forgotten.  His 


THE  CRUELTIES  OF  GIRTY.  543 

name  is  inscribed  among  those  of  the  heroes  and  the  martyrs. 
The  philosopher  moralizes  upon  his  career.  He  points  out  the 
fact  that  the  dead  was  in  the  grasp  of  immutable  laws ;  that  he 
was  not  his  own  master;  that  ancestry,  birth,  place,  tempera 
ment,  surroundings,  fortune,  accident,  and  circumstances  are  the 
powers  which  have  controlled  him,  in  whose  Titanic  grasp  he 
was  but  a  puppet.  This  is  the  charity  of  history.  This  is  the 
kindness  of  philosophy.  This  is  the  imperial  task  to  which 
the  human  mind  of  after  ages  devotes  herself,  the  task  of  pre 
serving  and  immortalizing  Truth,  Heroism,  and  Honor,  where- 
ever  found. 

Not  so  with  the  renegade.  He  is  the  abhorrence  of  all 
future  generations.  He  may  have  fallen  fighting  in  the  ranks 
of  the  brave  and  true.  No  matter.  Above  his  grave  rises  the 
black  shaft  of  sharne.  He  may  have  made  fearful  sacrifices. 
He  may  have  deserted  one  cause  and  joined  another  from  an 
honest  intellectual  conviction.  It  is  nothing.  For  him  men 
have  but  epithets  of  shame,  sneers  of  derision.  He  is  disowned 
and  dishonored.  For  him  there  is  no  charity.  His  virtues  pass 
into  oblivion.  His  solitary  crime  of  apostasy  becomes  over 
shadowing  and  colossal.  Philosophy  refuses  to  inquire  into  the 
origin  and  reasons  of  his  infamy.  He,  too,  may  have  been  a 
puppet,  moved  by  invisible  wires  from  remote  agencies.  Yet 
for  his  sin  there  is  no  atonement,  no  mercy-seat.  His  name  is 
inscribed  with  those  of  Benedict  Arnold  and  Brutus,  of  Julian 
and  Judas  Iscariot. 

Concerning  such  characters  the  real  truth  is  never  known. 
The  whirlwinds  of  abuse  which  overwhelm  their  lives  throw 
dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  historian.  He  sees  only  a  vast  mass 
of  slanders,  invectives,  reproaches,  and  vilifications.  There 
seems  to  have  been  no  good  in  the  man.  Passion,  it  may  be, 
has  exaggerated  his  vices.  Enmity  may  have  lied  about  his 
virtues.  But  the  exact  truth  can  never  be  obtained.  He  may 
have  been  worse  than  he  seems ;  he  may  have  been  better  than 
he  seems.  Concerning  these  things  it  is  impossible  to  judge. 


544  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

To  the  ranks  of  traitors  of  which  we  have  been  speaking 
belongs  Simon  Girty,  the  Renegade,  or  the  White  Savage.  It  is 
not  impossible  that  he  has  been  slandered.  We  can  not  tell. 
The  story  of  his  life  is  certainly  a  black  one. 

Among  all  the  Tories  of  the  Revolution  Simon  Girty  was 
the  most  notorious.  He  was  born  in  north-western  Pennsyl 
vania.  His  father  was  an  Irishman.  "  The  old  man  was  beastly 
intemperate.  A  jug  of  whisky  was  the  extent  of  his  ambition. 
Grog  was  his  song,  and  grog  would  he  have.  His  sottishness 
turned  his  wife's  affection.  Ready  for  seduction,  she  yielded 
her  heart  to  a  neighboring  rustic,  who,  to  remove  all  obstacles 
to  their  wishes,  knocked  old  Girty  on  the  head,  and  bore  off  the 
trophy  of  his  prowess." 

The  murdered  man  had  been  an  Indian  trader.  He  left 
four  boys,  Thomas,  Simon,  George,  and  James.  During  the  Old 
French  war  the  three  younger  boys  were  taken  captive  by  the 
Indians.  Inheriting  the  nature  of  savages,  their  surroundings 
only  developed  them.  Each  was  adopted  into  an  Indian  tribe. 
Each  became  a  blood-thirsty  ruffian,  and  during  long  careers  of 
violence  inflicted  every  cruelty  upon  the  persons  and  families 
of  the  white  settlers. 

Of  the  three  brothers  Simon  became  the  most  notorious,  as 
he  was  the  most  wicked.  At  the  close  of  Pontiac's  war,  Girty 
was  delivered  to  Bouquet  as  a  hostage  for  the  good  behavior  of 
the  Senecas,  of  which  tribe  he  was  a  member.  The  savage  pro 
pensities  of  the  young  ruffian  were  so  strong  that  he  escaped 
from  his  civilized  companions,  and  sought  again  the  wild  and 
wicked  life  of  the  wigwams.  Strangely  enough  his  appetite  for 
barbarism  was  at  this  time  forced  to  remain  unsatisfied.  The 
Senecas,  being  bound  by  the  condition  in  the  treaty  of  peace, 
deliberately  took  Mr.  Girty  by  force,  and  dragged  him  back  to 
Pittsburgh. 

Of  course,  when  Dunmore's  war  broke  out  in  1774,  Girty's 
natural  taste  for  scenes  of  violence  led  him  to  take  an  active 
part.  Here  he  met  Simon  Kenton,  for  whose  life  he  afterwards 


THE  CRUELTIES  OF  GIRTY.  .         545 

interceded  with  the  Wyandots.  Here,  too,  he  met  Colonel  Craw 
ford,  at  whose  hospitable  cabin  on  the  Youghiogheny  he  was  a 
frequent  guest.  In  attempting  to  account  for  his  subsequent 
treachery  and  desertion,  the  border  writers  mention  several 
incidents,  which  tradition  reports  as  having  transpired  about 
this  time. 

One  story  goes  that  he  aspired  to  the  hand  of  one  of  Colonel 
Crawford's  daughters.  The  refusal,  with  which  his  advances 
were  met,  poisoned  his  malignant  heart  with  a  sleepless  long 
ing  for  revenge.  This  account  is  supposed  to  furnish  some 
reason  for  Girty's  awful  inhumanity  to  Colonel  Crawford  some 
years  later. 

Another  story  runs  to  the  effect  that  Girty  and  another 
scout,  having  rendered  some  two  or  three  months'  service  in  the 
militia,  without  receiving  their  pay,  repaired  to  the  head 
quarters  of  General  Lewis,  and  insolently  demanded  that  the 
arrears  of  salary  be  made  up.  The  military  discipline  of  the 
time  seems  to  have  been  a  little  singular,  for  General  Lewis  not 
only  received  the  application  with  a  storm  of  curses,  but  pro 
ceeded  to  exercise  himself  in  bloodying  the  heads  of  the  two 
scouts  with  several  severe  blows  from  his  cane.  Strangely 
enough  this  style  of  reception  and  military  etiquette  displeased 
the  untutored  scouts.  Girty  picked  himself  up,  and  shaking  his 
fist  at  the  general,  with  a  fearful  oath,  threateningly  said,  "  jSir, 
for  this  your  quarters  shall  swim  in  blood." 

On  the  22d  of  February,  1775,  a  day  which,  at  that  time, 
was  not  yet  celebrated  as  the  birthday  of  the  Father  of  his 
country,  Girty  became  a  commissioned  officer  in  the  militia  at 
Pittsburgh.  In  accordance  with  English  laws,  he  took  the 
necessary  oaths  of  allegiance  to  the  king  and  his  abhorrence 
of  papacy. 

Here,  again,  the  ingenious  border  writers  find  a  reason  for 
Girty's  faithlessness.  They  say  he  aspired  to  a  captaincy,  but 
was  only  made  an  orderly-sergeant.  This  affront  his  sensitive 
soul  could  by  no  means  endure.  He  remained,  however,  in  the 

30 


546  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

service  at  Fort  Pitt  until  the  early  part  of  1778.  That  his  real 
sympathies,  if  such  his  inclinations  might  be  called,  were  with 
the  Indians,  among  whom  he  had  been  raised,  and  not  with  the 
struggling  cause  of  the  colonial  patriots,  is  natural,  and  easy  to 
believe. 

A  savage  seeks  the  society  of  savages,  just  as  surely  as  a 
gentleman  seeks  that  of  gentlemen.  Accordingly  we  find  Girty, 
together  with  a  pair  of  precious  scoundrels,  McKee  and  Elliott, 
and  twelve  followers,  one  day  making  up  their  packs  and  desert 
ing  from  Fort  Pitt.  The  news  spread  far  and  wide  over  the 
agitated  frontiers.  Wherever  the  ruffians  went,  they  spread  lies 
about  the  defeat  of  the  American  forces,  the  triumph  of  the 
British,  and  the  intention  of  the  colonists  to  avenge  their  defeat 
by  the  murder  of  every  Indian  in  the  Ohio  valley.  The  settlers 
trembled  for  the  safety  of  their  families.  The  mischief  which 
the  white  scoundrels  might  work  among  credulous  and  excitable 
savages  was  incalculable.  Their  evil  designs  were  looked  upon 
as  a  matter  of  certainty. 

Nor  did  the  fears  of  the  settlers  exaggerate  the  real  dan 
gers  of  the  situation.  The  Indians  were  made  to  believe  that 
George  Washington  was  killed,  and  that  the  members  of  Con 
gress  were  hung  in  the  very  chambers  where  they  had  been 
accustomed  to  deliberate.  As  poor  Hecke welder  said,  speaking 
of  the  renegade's  visit  to  Gnadenhutten :  "  It  was  enough  to 
break  the  hearts  of  the  missionaries." 

Girty  started  for  Detroit.  On  the  way  he  was  captured  by 
the  Wyandots.  Some  Senecas  demanded  that  he  be  delivered 
up  to  them,  on  the  ground  that  he  was  an  adopted  member 
of  their  tribe,  and  had  taken  arms  against  them.  In  fact, 
Girty's  national  allegiance  was  a  little  mixed.  "Was  he  a  traitor 
to  the  Senecas,  or  to  the  Americans,  or  to  both,  or  to  neither  ? 
For  this  enigma,  the  Wyandot  chief  had  a  solution.  "  He  is  our 
prisoner."  Such  logic  won  the  day.  By  shrewd  explanations 
that  he  was  now  devoted  to  their  cause  Girty  procured  himself 
to  be  set  at  liberty,  and  proceeded  to  Detroit.  Here  the  com- 


THE  CRUELTIES  OF  GIRTY.  547 

mandant,  Hamilton,  gave  him  a  hearty  reception.  He  was  at 
once  employed  by  the  British  upon  a  salary  to  incite  the  Indians 
to  warfare  upon  the  unprotected  settlers  of  the  border. 

Girty  was  now  in  his  element.  To  the  instinctive  ferocity 
of  his  own  nature,  he  added  the  relentless  zeal  of  the  renegade. 
His  name  became  a  household  word  of  terror  all  along  the 
border,  from  Pittsburgh  to  Louisville.  About  it  hung  every 
association  of  cruelty  and  fiendishness.  Dressed  and  painted 
like  an  Indian,  he  seemed,  as  he  really  was,  the  very  incarna 
tion  of  fierceness  and  brutality.  Inheriting  from  his  Irish  ances 
try  a  capacity  for  rude  eloquence,  with  which  the  children  of 
the  Emerald  Isle  are  often  gifted,  his  terrible  voice  rose  high 
and  commanding  above  all  the  hideous  clamor  and  savage  din 
of  every  Indian  council-house.  Convulsed  with  fury,  a  human 
volcano  in  eruption,  he  awed  the  savages  themselves  by  the 
resistless  torrents  of  his  rage,  and  excited  their  admiration  and 
emulation  by  his  infinite  thirst  for  blood  and  infernal  schemes 
of  vengeance. 

The  picture  of  the  man,  as  it  is  preserved  for  us  in  the 
tales  of  the  borders,  represents  him  as  a  monstrosity  in  human 
form.  We  can  fairly  hear  him  yet,  as  he  stalked  through  the 
village,  or  galloped  through  the  forest,  filling  the  air  with  an 
awful  din  and  roar  of  oaths  and  curses.  He  it  was  who  inspired 
and  directed  the  many  attacks  on  the  settlers  of  the  Ohio  val 
ley.  It  was  the  diabolical  brain  of  Girty  which  tormented  the 
Christian  Indians  of  the  Moravian  settlements,  drove  them  from 
spot  to  spot,  and  placed  them  in  that  ambiguous  position  which 
the  pioneers  mistook  for  treachery  or  hostility,  and  which 
resulted  in  the  slaughter  of  more  than  ninety  of  their  number. 

One,  among  many  instances  of  his  cruelty  toward  them, 
must  be  related.  Shortly  after  the  massacre  at  Gnadenhutten, 
Heckewelder,  Zeisberger,  and  two  other  missionaries  were 
ordered  by  Girty  to  meet  him  on  the  lower  Sandusky.  Here 
they  were  hospitably  received  by  some  traders.  The  traders 
told  them  that  Girty  had  commanded  them  to  proceed  to 


548  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Detroit  forthwith.  But  exhausted  by  their  toilsome  journey 
on  foot,  the  missionaries  availed  themselves  of  the  kind  invi 
tation  of  the  traders  to  remain  at  this  point  for  a  week  or  two. 

Here,  for  the  first  time,  they  learned  of  the  awful  tragedy 
on  the  Muskingum.  Their  minds  were  greatly  uneasy,  not  only 
by  reason  of  the  fearful  news,  but  also  from  an  apprehension 
that  Girty  might  return  from  a  terrible  expedition  against  the 
frontiers  and  find  his  orders  disobeyed  with  regard  to  their 
being  taken  to  Detroit. 

The  two  missionaries  were  quartered  in  different  houses, 
separated  by  some  distance.  Between  them  lay  the  restless 
and  filthy  town  of  the  Wyandots.  For  the  missionaries  to  pass 
through  the  village  and  visit  one  another  was  an  undertaking 
of  considerable  danger.  Nevertheless,  it  was  attempted  a  time 
or  two.  One  day,  when  the  Indian  village  seemed  all  quiet, 
Heckewelder  ventured  to  cross  it  to  the  house  where  his  friends 
were  lodged.  He  reached  the  place  in  safety. 

While  engaged  in  conversation,  the  missionaries  were  horri 
fied  and  startled  by  two  scalp-yells  from  different  directions.  Two 
war-parties  were  just  returning.  Heckewelder  at  once  started 
from  the  house,  which  stood  on  a  lofty  ridge  of  ground,  to  make 
his  way  back  to  his  quarters.  The  elevated  ground  prevented 
the  people  of  the  village  from  hearing  the  scalp-yell  of  the  war- 
party  approaching  from  the  rear  of  the  house  in  which  Hecke 
welder  was  talking.  The  savages  all  ran  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion  to  meet  the  other  party.  Heckewelder  followed  in  their 
rear,  and  passed  the  deserted  village  in  safety. 

But  the  missionaries'  troubles  were  not  ended.  Girty  re 
turned,  and  behaved  like  a  madman  on  learning  that  they  were 
there.  "He  flew  at  the  Frenchman,"  says  Heckewelder,  "who 
was  in  the  room  adjoining  ours,  most  furiously,  striking  him, 
and  threatening  to  split  his  head  in  two,  for  disobeying  the 
orders  he  had  given  him.  He  swore  the  most  horrid  oaths 
respecting  us,  and  continued  in  that  way  until  after  midnight. 
His  oaths  were  all  to  the  purport  that  he  would  never  leave  the 


THE  CRUELTIES  OF  GIRTY.  549 

house  until  'he  split  our  heads  in  two  with  his  tomahawk,  and 
made  our  brains  stick  to  the  walls  of  the  rooms  in  which  we 
were  !  I  omit  the  names  he  called  us  by  and  the  words  he 
made  use  of  while  swearing,  as  also  the  place  he  would  go  to  if 
he.  did  not  fulfill  all  which  he  had  sworn  he  would  do  to  us. 
He  had  somewhere  procured  liquor,  and  would,  as  we  were  told 
by  those  who  were  near  him,  at  every  drink  renew  his  oaths, 
which  he  repeated  until  he  fell  asleep. 

"Never  before  did  any  of  us  hear  the  like  oaths,  or  know  any 
one  to  rave  like  him.  He  appeared  like  a  host  of  evil  spirits. 
He  would  sometimes  come  up  to  the  bolted  door  between  us  and 
him,  threatening  to  chop  it  in  pieces  to  get  at  us.  No  Indian 
we  ever  saw  drunk  wrould  have  been  a  match  for  him.  How 
we  should  escape  the  clutches  of  this  white  beast  in  human 
form  -no  one  could  foresee." 

The  poor  missionaries  passed  a  miserable  night,  within  the 
sound  of  the  fearful  ravings  of  the  monster.  When  morning 
dawned  they  were  fortunately  enabled  to  leave  the  place  in  a 
boat  which  was  going  to  Detroit. 

The  wicked  and  devilish  part  which  Girty  played  in  the  exe 
cution  of  Colonel  Crawford  is  given  in  another  chapter,  as  is 
also  the  incident  of  a  different  character,  in  which  he  attempted 
to  save  Kenton's  life.  Toward  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary 
War  a  thread  of  romance  is  twisted  like  a  skein  of  gold  through 
the  dark  web  of  Girty's  career. 

In  March  1779  a  family  of  emigrants  named  Malott  embarked 
on  the  Monongahela  in  two  flat-bottomed  boats  for  a  voyage  to 
Kentucky.  Mrs.  Malqtt  and  her  five  children,  with  Captain 
Reynolds,  were  in  the  rear  boat.  Mrs.  Reynolds,  several  chil 
dren,  and  a  Mrs.  Hardin  were  in  the  forward  boat.  Some  forty 
miles  below  Wheeling  the  little  fleet,  in  which  there  were  also 
some  canoes,  was  attacked  by  Indians. 

Several  of  the  voyagers  were  killed,  and  no  less  than  nine 
teen  of  them  taken  prisoner  to  the  squalid  villages  of  the  Dela- 
wares  and  the  Wyandots.  Among  these  was  Catharine  Malott, 


550  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

then  fifteen  years  old.  Some  three  years  afterward,  when  Mrs. 
Malott  had  obtained  her  liberty  at  Detroit,  she  seems  to  have 
employed  Girty  to  trace  her  children.  He  found  Catharine,  a 
very  pretty  girl,  adopted  into  an  Indian  family.  The  people 
being  very  proud  of  her,  refused  to  give  her  up.  Girty 's  influ 
ence,  and  a  well-timed  promise,  which  was  never  intended  to  be 
kept,  that  she  should  be  returned  after  visiting  her  mother  in 
Detroit,  secured  her  release. 

Once  at  Detroit,  Girty  married  her.  During  the  next  seven 
years  Girty,  softened  somewhat  by  his  new  relations,  remained 
comparatively  quiet,  leading  the  life  of  an  Indian  trader.  For 
awhile  he  was  tolerably  quiet.  In  time,  however,  he  became  a 
hard  drinker,  and  was  separated  from  his  family. 

When  the  Indians  of  the  west,  after  some  years  of  compar 
ative  quiet,  following  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  .com 
bined  in  one  last  and  furious  effort  to  drive  the  white  man  from 
the  territory  of  their  fathers,  an  attempt  which  was  met  by  the 
memorable  and  unfortunate  expedition  of  General  Harmar  in 
1790,  by  the  no  less  tragic  campaign  of  St.  Glair  in  1791,  and 
finally,  by  the  triumphant  and  overwhelming  blow  inflicted  by 
General  Wayne  in  1794,  Simon  Girty  again  became  prominent 
among  the  savages.  At  every  council  his  voice  'was  lifted  in 
the  support  of  bitter,  relentless,  and  continued  war.  He  was 
present,  animating  the  Indian  forces  by  his  reckless  courage,  at 
each  important  battle  of  these  campaigns.  One  incident  early 
in  1791  has  been  preserved. 

A  party  of  hunters  from  Cincinnati  were  startled  by  the 
discharge  of  fire-arms  from  the  neighborhood  of  Dunlap's  Sta 
tion.  This  was  a  settlement  on  the  Great  Miami  River,  eight 
miles  from  Hamilton.  Here  the  settlers  had  erected  several 
block-houses,  connected  by  a  stockade,  fronting  southward  on 
the  river  at  a  point  where  the  water  is  deep.  The  hunters  beat 
a  hasty  retreat  for  Cincinnati,  seventeen  miles  away.  No  one 
doubted  that  the  station  had  been  attacked  by  Indians. 

Before  daylight  seventy  men  left  Cincinnati  for  the  relief 


THE  CRUELTIES  OF  GIRTY.  551 

of  the  station.  On  arriving  at  the  fort,  they  learned  that  the 
Indians  had  withdrawn.  One  man  had  been  killed  by  a  shot 
fired  through  a  crack  between  the  logs.  Not  far  from  the  fort 
they  found  the  body  of  Abner  Hunt.  It  was  mangled,  the 
brains  beaten  out,  and  two  war-clubs  laid  across  the  breast. 
Hunt  had  been  out  with  three  companions  named  Wallace, 
Sloan,  and  Cunningham,  exploring  the  country.  Cunningham 
was  killed  on  the  spot  by  an  ambuscade  of  Indians;  Hunt  was 
captured  only  to  be  subsequently  put  to  death.  Wallace  took 
to  flight.  Two  fleet  Indians  pursued.  In  his  flight  Wallace 
had  the  misfortune  to  be  tripped  and  thrown  by  the  loosening 
of  his  leggins.  He  pluckily  tied  them  up,  and  escaped  in  spite 
of  the  mishap.  Sloan  and  Wallace  carried  the  news  of  the 
Indians'  approach  to  the  fort. 

Before  sunrise  on  the  10th  of  January,  the  women  of  the 
fort,  while  milking  the  cows,  raised  an  alarm  cry  that  the 
Indians  were  upon  them.  Before  the  fight  was  begun,  Simon 
Girty  strode  forward  toward  the  fort,  driving  Abner  Hunt  before 
him  by  means  of  a  rope,  with  which  the  prisoner  was  bound. 
Within  speaking  distance  of  the  fort  was  a  large  stump.  This 
Girty  compelled  Hunt  to  mount  and  to  urge  the  surrender  of 
the  fort  in  the  most  earnest  manner.  Lieutenant  Kingsbury,  in 
command  at  the  station,  replied  that  he  would  not  surrender  if 
he  were  surrounded  by  five  hundred  devils  and  persuaded  to  do 
so  by  Demosthenes  himself.  An  Indian  shot  at  him,  and  struck 
off  the  white  plume  from  his  hat.  Girty,  to  revenge  himself 
for  this  disappointment,  drove  poor  Hunt  back  to  a  spot  on  the 
plain,  which,  though  out  of  range  of  the  guns,  was  in  full  view 
of  the  garrison.  Here  he  proceeded  to  torture  the  unhappy 
wretch,  and  finally  put  him  to  death. 

This  scene  over,  the  Indians  began  a  desperate  attack.  They 
fired  from  behind  stumps,  trees,  and  logs.  A  pile  of  brush  near 
the  stockade  was  soon  in  flames.  The  Indians  then  rushed  for 
ward  with  fire-brands  to  burn  the  block-houses,  but  they  were 
driven  back  by  a  whirlwind  of  bullets.  All  day  long  the  attack 


552  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

was  continued.  Night  brought  no  relief.  The  entire  number  in 
the  fort  was  about  thirty  men,  and  as  many  women  and  chil 
dren.  Girty  conducted  the  attack  with  great  boldness  and  inge 
nuity.  But  the  stubborn  resistance  of  the  defenders  of  the 
station  successfully  met  him  at  every  point.  Both  men  and 
women  teased  the  savages  by  momentarily  exposing  themselves 
above  the  pickets  and  inviting  a  shot. 

That  night,  at  ten  o'clock,  John  S.  Wallace  attempted  to 
leave  the  fort,  in  order  to  make  his  way  to  Cincinnati  and  pro 
cure  relief.  So  vigilant  were  the  besiegers,  that  he  was  unable 
to  pass  through  their  lines.  For  three  hours  he  continued  his 
attempts.  Driven  back  each  time,  he  next  turned  his  atten 
tion  to  the  river.  The  night  was  very  dark.  There  were  no 
indications  of  the  presence  of  savages  on  the  opposite  bank. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Mr.  Wallace  and  a  sol 
dier  named  William  Wiseman  got  into  a  canoe,  and  silently 
paddled  across  the  river.  They  then  made  their  way  on  foot 
through  the  river  bottoms  for  a  couple  of  miles.  An  attempt 
to  cross  the  river  on  the  floating  ice  proved  unsuccessful.  At 
the  spot  where  New  Baltimore  stands,  they  at  last  did  get 
across,  and  early  in  the  day  met  the  relief  party  from  Cincin 
nati,  of  which  we  have  already  spoken. 

Another  battle  in  which  Girty  was  known  to  be  engaged 
was  that  which  resulted  in  St.  Clair's  defeat,  twenty-three  miles 
north  of  Greenville,  Ohio.  During  the  rout  of  the  American 
army,  Girty  captured  a  white  woman.  A  Wyandot  squaw  at 
once  demanded  that  the  female  captive  be  given  to  her,  in 
accordance  with  the  Indian  custom.  Girty  refused,  and  became 
furious.  The  decline  of  his  influence,  a  thing  which  has  been 
experienced  by  every  renegade,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the 
warriors  came  up  and  forced  Girty  to  give  up  the  captive. 

After  this  we  hear  of  Girty  establishing  a  trading-house  on 
the  siyte  of  the  present  town  of  St.  Mary's,  Mercer  County,  Ohio. 
Girty  was  also  present  at  the  famous  battle  of  Fallen  Timbers, 
in  1794,  after  which  he  moved  to  Maiden,  Canada.  He  was 


THE  CRUELTIES  OF  GIRTY.  553 

perpetually  haunted  by  the  fear  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  the 
Americans.  In  1796,  when  Detroit  was  upon  the  point  of  a 
final  surrender  by  the  British,  he  happened  to  be  in  the  city. 
Some  boat  loads  of  American  troops  were  coming  in  sight. 
Girty  would  not  wait  for  the  ferry-boat,  but  excitedly  plunged 
his  horse  into  the  Detroit  River,  and  made  for  the  Canada 
shore,  pouring  out  volleys  of  curses  upon  the  Americans  all 
the  way. 

In  1813  a  Mr.  Workman,  of  Ohio,  stopped  at  a  hotel  kept 
by  a  Frenchman,  in  Maiden.  Sitting  in  the  bar-room  in  a  cor 
ner  by  the  glowing  fire-place  was  a  blind  and  gray-headed  old 
man.  He  was  about  five  feet,  ten  inches  in  height,  broad  across 
the  chest,  and  of  powerful  and  muscular  build.  He  was  then 
nearly  seventy  years  old.  The  old  man  was  none  other  than 
the  notorious  Simon  Girty.  He  had  been  blind  for  four  years, 
and  was  afflicted  with  rheumatism  and  other  intolerable  diseases, 
a  perfect  sot,  a  complete  human  wreck.  He  lingered  on  through 
two  more  years  of  misery,  and,  at  last,  died  without  a  friend 
and  without  a  hope. 


554  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD. 

MONGr  the  many  unfortunate  military  enterprises 
undertaken  on  the  western  border  during  the 
Revolutionary  War,  none  is  more  notable  than 
that  against  Sandusky,  under  Colonel  William 
Crawford.  Cornwallis  had  surrendered.  The 
war  with  England  was  at  an  end.  The  patri 
otic  minds  of  the  colonies,  inspired  by  the  mag 
nificent  destiny  dawning  upon  their  country, 
were  already  busy  with  the  great  problems  of  self-government. 
On  the  western  frontiers,  however,  the  murderous  forays  of 
the  Indians  raged  with  unprecedented  violence.  The  settlers 
continued  to  be  roused  at  midnight  in  their  lonely  cabins  by 
the  blood-curdling  war-cry.  Children  continued  to  be  snatched 
away  into  captivity  by  dark  hands  thrust  out  from  behind 
clumps  of  bushes  and  fallen  logs.  The  corpses  of  the  near  and 
dear  still  continued  to  be  found  in  lonely  ravines  or  open  fields. 
The  center  of  the  Indian  power  was  at  Sandusky.  In  1782 
a  permission  for  the  organization  of  a  great  volunteer  expedition 
against  the  Indians  of  the  west  was  about  all  the  government 
could  do.  This,  however,  was  enough.  Far  and  wide  through 
the  settlements  along  the  Monongahela,  the  Youghiogheny,  and 
the  Ohio  went  the  thrilling  word  that  the  expedition  was  to 
start  on  the  20th  of  May. 

The  popular  heart,  inspired  by  the  successes  of  the  Revolu 
tion,  was  now  fired  with  enthusiasm  and  zeal  for  an  attack  on 
the  deadly  enemies  of  the  west.  In  many  an  isolated  cabin 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  555 

there  was  a  lively  stir  of  preparation.  With  troubled  forebod 
ings  many  a  mother  heard  the  resolutions  of  brave  sons  to  join 
the  march  to  the  front.  Maidens,  parting  from  their  lovers,  sat 
in  the  shadow  of  their  first  sorrow.  Children,  whose  tongues 
had  scarcely  learned  to  lisp  the  dreaded  syllable  of  war,  sobbed 
in  solitude  at  the  absence  of  the  stalwart  forms  they  loved. 

The  scene  at  Mingo  Bottom,  the  rendezvous  for. the  expedi 
tion,  was  truly  American.  For  ten  days  beforehand  the  border 
ers  came  riding  in,  equipped  in  homely  fashion  for  the  campaign. 
The  pioneer  soldier  was  a  curiosity.  His  buckskin  hunting-shirt 
was  belted  at  the  waist.  Through  the  belt  was  thrust  the  cruel 
tomahawk,  the  glittering  scalping-knife,  and  the  string  of  his 
ammunition-pouch.  His  hat  of  felt  or  fur  was  not  infrequently 
decorated  with  tossing  plumes,  or  the  tails  of  animals.  Over 
his  shoulder  he  carried  his  rifle.  Perhaps  in  his  bosom  was 
thrust  some  memento,  a  handkerchief  or  a  scarf  from  some 
admiring  maiden. 

When  at  last  the  grim  and  motley  assemblage  was  complete, 
its  first  task  was  to  elect  officers.  William  Crawford  received 
two  hundred  and  thirty-five  out  of  the  four  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  votes  cast,  and  was  declared  colonel  in  command  of  the 
expedition.  He  had  had  considerable  military  experience,  and 
was  fitted  by  nature  to  be  a  soldier  and  a  leader.  He  was 
ambitious,  cool,  and  brave.  Familiar  with  border  warfare,  the 
expedition  in  hand  was  adapted  to  the  highest  qualities  of  his 
genius.  Yet  he  accepted  the  command  with  reluctance.  Before 
his  tender  farewell  to  his  family,  the  prudent  father  made 
his  will. 

His  associate  officers  were  the  very  flower  of  the  border. 
Among  them  was  David  Williamson,  second  in  command ;  John 
McClelland,  field  major ;  Dr.  John  Knight,  surgeon ;  John 
Slover,  Jonathan  Zane,  of  whom  we  have  heard  before,  guides 
of  the  expedition ;  and  an  officer  of  the  regular  army,  who  gave 
his  name  as  John  Rose,  who  volunteered  for  the  purpose  of  act 
ing  as  aid-de-camp  to  the  commanding  officer. 


£56  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Concerning  this  latter  gentleman  more  will  be  said  hereafter. 
For  the  present  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that,  early  in  the  Revolu 
tion,  he  had  applied  to  the  American  army  for  a  commission. 
Though  fine  looking,  of  elegant  manners,  and,  as  was  supected, 
of  noble  birth,  speaking  the  French  language,  and  highly  gifted, 
his  request  was  refused.  He  had  studied  medicine,  he  said,  and 
sympathizing  with  the  colonists,  had  left  the  Old  World,  against 
the  protest  of  his  friends,  to  join  his  fortunes  with  theirs.  Upon 
the  details  of  his  history  and  life,  the  young  stranger  preserve^ 
the  most  profound  silence.  He  had,  at  last,  received  a  commis 
sion  as  surgeon;  but,  after  two  or  three  years  of  service,  discov 
ering  a  jealousy  on  the  part  of  some  young  American  officers, 
he  had  resigned.  In  spite  of  the  mystery  that  surrounded  him, 
he  was  a  great  favorite.  It  was  not  long  before  the  wild  bor 
derers,  assembled  at  Mingo  Bottom,  absolutely  idolized  the 
young  officer,  who  volunteered  from  lack  of  other  service. 

On  the  25th  of  May  the  expedition  set  out  for  Sandusky, 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  away.  Though  not  an  Indian  had 
been  seen,  the  greatest  precautions  were  taken  against  ambus 
cades  and  surprises.  Their  route  led  them  through  the  deso 
late  and  fire-blasted  -settlements  of  the  Moravians  on  the 
Muskingum. 

David  Williamson,  the  officer  second  in  command  of  the 
expedition,  was  familiar  with  this  spot.  He  it  was  who  had 
commanded  the  gang  of  murderers,  by  whose  bloody  hands  the 
inncocent  Moravian  Indians  had  been  put  to  death.  Yet,  when 
he  found  himself  once  more  near  the  scene  of  this  appalling 
massacre,  there  is  no  record,  no  evidence  that  his  heart  was 
moved  with  one  sensation  of  regret,  with  a  single  throb  of  pity. 
Such  is  the  brutalizing  influence  of  war  upon  the  warrior. 

The  march  was  designed  to  be  hasty.  The  plan  was  to 
surprise  the  savages.  Day  after  day  they  advanced,  without 
finding  the  print  of  a  single  moccasin  or  hearing  the  crack  of  a 
single  hostile  rifle.  It  was  not  the  advance  of  an  army  with 
banners,  to  the  music  of  the  fife  and  drum.  It  was  the  insidious 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  55T 

movement,  swift  and  silent,  of  a  mighty  serpent,  winding 
stealthily  through  the  sunless  forests  toward  the  unsuspecting 
towns  of  the  Indians.  Now  and  then  an  incident  happened 
which  attracted  the  attention  of  the  men.  Some  of  the  volun 
teers  lost  their  horses,  and  were  compelled  to  return  to  the 
settlements.  This  the  borderers  regarded  as  a  bad  sign. 
"  Perhaps  the  rest  of  us  will  not  go  back  at  all !"  said  one  of 
the  men. 

On  another  day,  a  fox  got  into  the  lines.  The  men  at  once 
surrounded  it  on  all  sides,  but  in  spite  of  their  utmost  efforts  to 
capture  it,  the  animal  escaped.  In  every  considerable  company 
of  men  there  will  be  some  who  are  positively  and  blindly 
superstitious.  In  addition  to  these  there  will  be  a  larger  num 
ber  of  credulous  and  talkative  persons  who,  when  informed 
that  a  certain  thing  is  an  omen  or  sign,  at  once  take  it  up  as  a 
matter  of  fact.  So  it  came  to  be  whispered  through  the  camp 
that  the  escape  of  the  fox  was  a  bad  omen.  "If  the  whole 
army,"  said  they,  "is  unable  to  kill  a  fox,  under  such  circum 
stances,  what  success  can  be  expected  against  Indians  ?" 

The  army  at  last  emerged  from  the  forests,  which  they  had 
traversed,  into  the  rolling  prairies  of  Ohio.  "  To  most  of  the 
volunteers,"  says  the  historian  of  this  expedition,  "the  sight 
of  the  plains  was  a  novel  one.  The  high,  coarse  grass,  the 
islands  of  timber,  the  gradually  undulating  surface,  were  all 
objects  of  surprise.  Birds  of  strange  plumage  flew  over  them, 
prairie  hens  rose  before  them,  sailing  away  and  slowly  dropping 
into  the  grass  on  either  hand.  Sand-hill  cranes  blew  their  shrill 
pipes,  startled  by  the  sudden  apparition.  Prairie  owls,  on  cum 
brous  wings,  fluttered  away  in  the  distance,  and  the  noisy  bit 
tern  was  heard  along  the  streamlets.  Wild  geese  were  fright 
ened  from  their  nests,  and,  occasionally,  in  widening  circles  far 
above  them,  soared  the  imperial  eagle." 

At  length  the  destination  of  the  expedition,  into  which  the 
entire  western  border  had  concentrated  its  energy  and  valor, 
was  almost  reached.  On  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  June  the 


558  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

men  were  awake  and  ready  for  the  march  before  the  brightness 
of  the  sunrise  had  illuminated  the  landscape.  Throughout  the 
whole  camp  there  was  a  bustle  of  unusual  excitement.  Through 
their  long  march  scarcely  an  Indian  had  been  seen.  The  men 
felt  themselves  to  be  approaching  a  crisis.  Their  nerves  were 
strung  at  the  highest  tension.  Guns  were  examined,  and  fresh 
charges  put  in.  Packs  were  readjusted,  and  saddle  girths  care 
fully  tightened.  The  army  were  encamped  near  the  site  of  the 
present  village  of  Wyandot  in  the  county  of  that  name  in  the 
State  of  Ohio. 

The  march  was  begun  just  as  the  flaming  disk  of  day 
appeared  above  the  horizon.  The  direction  taken  was  nearly 
north-west.  Six  miles'  travel  brought  them  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Little  Sandusky.  The  spot  was  a  familiar  one  to  Slover. 
He  had  been  taken  captive  by  the  Miami  Indians  when  only 
eight  years  of  age,  spending  the  next  six  years  of  his  life  with 
that  tribe. 

Three  Indian  trails  led  from  the  spot  of  which  we  are  now 
speaking.  One  south-east,  through  the  Plains,  to  Owl  Creek, 
now  the  Yernon  River,  leading  thence  to  Walhomding.  This 
was  the  route  taken  by  the  Moravian  missionaries  and  their 
converts  at  the  time  of  their  exile  from  the  settlements  on  the 
Muskingum  to  the  barren  plains  of  Sandusky.  A  second  trail 
led  to  the  south,  up  the  east  side  of  the  Little  Sandusky.  The 
third  ran  to  the  south-west,  toward  the  Shawanese  town  upon 
Mad  River.  Besides  these,  there  was  also  a  fourth  trace,  lead 
ing  north  along  the  east  side  of  the  river,  through  the  woods. 

This  latter  was  the  one  which  Crawford  took.  The  army 
moved  cautiously,  for  Slover  assured  Crawford  that  the  Wyan 
dot  town  was  near  at  hand.  Following  the  turn  of  the  river, 
the  army  marched  rapidly  in  a  westerly  direction.  There  was 
an  opening  in  the  woods,  towards  which  the  men  pressed  on 
eagerly.  Just  before  them  lay  the  Wyandot  town,  the  goal  of 
the  expedition. 

Yet,  though  a  hostile  army  was   now  within  full   view  of 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  559 

the  place,  there  was  no  sign  of  life  in  the  village.  The  shrill 
war-cry,  the  screams  of  the  squaws,  the  barking  of  the  dogs, 
were  all  wanting.  Were  the  inhabitants  of  the  place  asleep,  or 
was  the  village  enchanted  ?  As  the  invaders  drew  nearer,  they 
found,  to  their  surprise,  that  the  Wyandot  town  was  without 
an  inhabitant.  All  was  a  solitude.  The  empty  huts  were  silent 
and  deserted.  Grass  was  growing  in  the  doorways.  The  ashes 
of  the  camp-fires  seemed  to  have  been  beaten  by  many  a  rain 
since  the  hot  coals  had  glowed  in  their  midst. 

The  army  was  astonished.  Some  mistake  had  been  made. 
Where,  then,  was  Sandusky,  the  principal  town  of  the  Wyan- 
dots,  to  attack  which  the  volunteers  had  traveled  one  hundred 
and  sixty  miles  ?  A  halt  was  called.  It  was  one  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  the  officers  of  the  army  were  hastily  called  together 
for  a  council  of  war,  to  consider  the  strange  aspect  of  affairs. 

Leaving  the  officers  of  the  volunteer  army  in  anxious  con 
sultation,  let  us  briefly  sketch  the  state  of  affairs  among  the 
Indians.  The  reverses  experienced  by  them  early  in  the  year, 
together  with  the  Gnadenhutten  massacre,  had  roused  the 
Indians  to  the  highest  activity  and  watchfulness.  Every  white 
settlement  on  the  frontier  was  placed  under  the  surveillance  of 
invisible  spies.  When  the  cabins  of  the  pioneers  began  to  be 
pervaded  by  an  unusual  stir  in  preparation  for  the  expedition 
against  Sandusky,  fleet  runners,  unbeknown  to  the  white  -men, 
bore  the  startling  news  to  the  villages  of  their  tribes. 

When  the  assemblage  of  volunteers  took  place  at  Mingo 
Bottom,  every  movement  was  observed '  by  subtle  scouts,  and 
the  tidings  reported  to  their  chiefs.  That  a  great  expedition 
was  forming  was  evident.  Its  destination,  however,  was 
unknown.  In  every  forest  through  which  the  army  had  passed 
lurked  unseen  savages,  watching  their  course.  Meanwhile,  run 
ners  were  dispatched  to  every  village,  bearing  the  news  that  the 
Indians  must  concentrate  all  their  forces  to  successfully  resist 
this  invasion.  Messengers  were  also  dispatched  to  Detroit, 
begging  the  British  commandant  to  send  instant  and  powerful 


560  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

aid  to  his  Indian  allies.  The  old  Wyandot  town  had  been 
deserted  some  time  before  this.  Its  people  had  removed  to  a 
point  on  the  river  eight  miles  below  the  old  town.  Its  location 
was  five  miles  below  the  present  town  of  Upper  Sandusky,  just 
where  the  Kilbourne  road  crosses  the  river. 

That  the  destination  of  Crawford  and  his  men  was  to  be  the 
Sandusky  towns  seemed  clear  to  the  Indians.  In  this  they 
were  confirmed  by  Crawford's  encampment  on  the  night  of  the 
3d  of  June.  Eighteen  miles  down  the  river  from  that  camp 
was  the  chief  Wyandot  town,  where  the  warriors  were  prepared 
to  march  at  any  instant.  Eleven  miles  in  another  direction 
stood  the  village  of  Captain  Pipe,  the  war  chief  of  the  Dela-* 
wares.  Here,  too,  the  savages  stood  all  night  long  plumed  and 
ready  for  battle. 

On  the  morning  -of  the  4th  of  June  the  Delaware  war-chief 
moved  forward  with  his  two  hundred  braves  to  an  appointed 
rendezvous  with  the  Wyandot  braves.  From  the  village  of  the 
latter  the  squaws  and  children  were  carefully  removed  and  con 
cealed  in  a  deep  ravine.  The  traders  in  the  town  hastily  packed 
their  goods  and  started  for  Detroit. 

Besides  the  Wyandots,  whose  numbers  exceeded  those  of 
the  Delawares,  the  combined  forces  of  which  already  surpassed 
the  volunteer  army,  there  was  also  moving  to  the  Indian  ren 
dezvous,  two  other  re-enforcements.  From  the  Shawanese  town, 
forty  miles  away,  were  coming  two  hundred  braves  of  that  tribe. 
They  were  not  expected  to  arrive  until  the  next  day.  From 
the  north  was  coming  powerful  succor  of  a  different  sort.  The 
commandant  of  Detroit  had  dispatched  to  the  scene  of  action 
Butler's  Mounted  Rangers,  with  three  pieces  of  artillery. 

It  was  impossible  for  this  re-enforcement  to  reach  the  ren 
dezvous  before  the  5th  of  June.  Far  in  advance  of  the  Rangers, 
however,  mounted  on  the  swiftest  horse  in  the  company,  rode 
Matthew  Elliott  at  the  top  of  his  speed.  He  it  was  who  was 
to  have  command  of  all  the  allied  forces.  He  reached  his  com 
mand  about  noon  of  the  fourth.  Second  in  command  to  him  was 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  561 

his  fellow-ruffian  and  Tory,  Simon  Girty.  Such  were  the  prep 
arations  made  for  the  destruction  of  Crawford's  army. 

The  council  of  war,  held  on  the  site  of  the  deserted  Wyan- 
dot  town,  resulted  in  an  advance  in  search  of  the  real  Sandusky, 
which  Slover  rightly  believed  to  be  eight  miles  farther  down  the 
river.  The  army  had  proceeded  some  three  or  four  miles  when 
some  of  the  men  expressed  an  earnest  desire  to  return  home, 
for  the  reason  that  there  remained  only  five  days'  provisions. 
Crawford  again  called  a  halt.  His  officers  were  at  once  sum 
moned  for  another  council.  Jonathan  Zane  urged  an  immediate 
retreat.  He  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  Indians  would  in  the 
end  bring  an  overwhelming  force  against  them.  The  failure  to 
discover  any  Indians  as  yet  convinced  him  that  they  were  con 
centrated  at  some  point  not  far  away  for  a  determined  resist 
ance.  In  this  view  Crawford  coincided.  •  It  was,  however,  at 
last,  resolved  to  continue  the  advance  during  the  afternoon,  and, 
in  case  of  continued  failure  to  meet  the  enemy,  that  a  retreat 
should  be  commenced  during  the  night. 

In  front  of  the  army  rode  a  party  of  scouts.  The  country 
was  rolling  prairie,  flecked  with  island-groves  of  thickly  growing 
trees.  At  one  of  these  green  oases  the  scouts  reined  in  their 
panting  horses.  One  mile  to  the  east  of  them  lay  the  Sandusky 
River,  its  winding  course  marked  out  upon  the  landscape  by  a 
fringe  of  forest  trees.  Midway  between  the  grove  and  the  river 
ran  the  trail  leading  to  the  Wyandot  town.  South-west  of  the 
grove,  not  very  far  off,  was  a  cranberry  marsh,  impassable  to  horse 
men.  This  swamp  the  scouts  had  passed  without  discovering  it. 
After  a  few  moments'  pause,  this  advance  guard  put  spurs  to  their 
horses,  and  galloped  on  over  the  prairie.  Having  left  the  grove 
about  a  mile  to  the  rear,  the  scouts  suddenly  discovered  a  large 
body  of  Indians  running  directly  toward  them — they  were  in 
sight  of  the  Indian  rendezvous.  One  of  their  number,  riding 
their  fleetest  horse,  at  once  galloped  back  to  inform  Crawford 
of  the  enemy's  whereabouts.  The  rest  retired  slowly  as  the 
savages  advanced. 

31 


562  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Just  as  the  Americans  had  finished  their  council  of  war  the 
breathless  scout  dashed  in,  bearing  the  news  of  the  discovery 
of  the  Indians.  In  a  moment  the  lagging  army  took  fire  with 
enthusiasm,  and  started  forward  at  the  top  of  their  speed.  They 
found  that  the  Indians  had  already  reached  the  island  grove 
and  taken  possession  of  it.  Crawford's  military  eye  at  once 
discerned  this  to  be  a  strategic  point.  By  a  rapid  charge  the 
Indians  were  driven,  and  the  Americans,  in  turn,  took  posses 
sion  of  the  cover. 

The  firing  began  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The 
Indians,  led  by  Elliott  and  Girty,  were  concealed  by  the  thick, 
high  grass  of  the  open  prairie.  They  would  creep  forward, 
unseen,  close  to  the  trees,  and  fire  upon  the  Americans  from 
their  concealment.  Some  of  the  borderers  climbed  the  trees, 
and  from  their  bushy  tops  took  deadly  aim  at  the  heads  of  the 
enemy  moving  about  in  the  grass.  Great  execution  was  done 
in  this  way.  One  man  said  afterward,  "I  do  not  know  how 
many  Indians  I  killed,  but  I  never  saw  the  same  head  again 
above  the  grass  after  I  shot  at  it."  The  battle  raged  with 
fury.  Every  tree  and  log  in  the  grove  blazed  with  the  inces 
sant  flashes  of  the  American  rifles.  Not  a  foe  was  visible  on 
either  side.  Yet  every  point  in  the  surrounding  prairie  gave 
forth  continuous  explosions,  and,  over  all  floated  a  bank  of 
white  smoke. 

The  afternoon  was  exceedingly  sultry.  Not  a  breath  of  air 
was  stirring.  The  river  was  a  mile  away.  No  spring  or  stream 
of  water  was  to  be  found  in  the  grove.  The  soldiers  were 
attacked  by  the  intolerable  torment  of  thirst.  In  this  emer 
gency  one  of  the  men,  John  Sherrard,  distinguished  himself. 
In  the  excitement  of  the  conflict  he  had  rendered  his  gun  use 
less  by  ramming  a  ball  into  the  barrel  without  having  put  in  a 
charge  of  powder.  He  said  "  I  will  not  be  idle."  He  went  in 
search  of  water.  He  found  a  place  where  a  tree  had  been  torn 
up  by  the  roots.  In  the  cavity  left  in  the  ground  had  collected 
a  pool  of  stagnant  water.  Pushing  aside  the  green  scum,  he 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  563 

filled  his  canteen  and  hat,  and  ran  to  carry  the  water  to  his 
thirsty  comrades.  During  the  afternoon  he  made  twenty  trips 
of  this  kind. 

For  a  while  the  issue  of  the  battle  was  doubtful.  Toward 
sunset  the  fire  of  the  savages  weakened.  Their  caution  about 
exposure  increased.  They  had  evidently  suffered.  At  dark 
they  had  withdrawn  beyond  the  range  of  the  American  rifles. 
The  Americans,  being  left  in  possession  of  the  field,  were  the 
victors.  To  guard  against  a  night  surprise,  each  party  resorted 
to  the  same  device.  They  built  a  line  of  huge  camp-fires,  and 
then  fell  back  from  them  for  some  distance.  By  this  means  any 
approaching  foe  would  be  revealed.  The  loss  of  the  American 
army  was  five  killed  and  nineteen  wounded.  The  battle-field 
was  three  miles  north,  and  half  a  mile  east  of  the  spot  now 
occupied  by  the  court-house  in  Upper  Sandusky. 

At  sunrise  on  the  beautiful  morning  of  the  5th  of  June,  occa 
sional  shots  at  long  range  began  to  be  exchanged  between  the 
contending  forces.  As  the  day  advanced  the  enemy's  firing  con 
tinued  to  be  slack  and  irregular.  As  to  the  cause  of  this  feeble 
ness  the  Americans  were  fatally  mistaken.  They  regarded  it  as 
an  indication  of  depression  occasioned  by  the  defeat  of  the  pre 
vious  day.  In  fact,  however,  the  Wyandots  and  Delawares 
were  abundantly  satisfied  with  simply  being  able  to  hold  the 
Americans  in  check  until  the  arrival  of  the  band  of  braves  from 
the  Shawanese  village,  and  of  the  redoubtable  Butler's  Rangers. 
Every  hour  brought  these  re-enforcements,  of  which  the  Ameri 
cans  were  totally  ignorant,  nearer  to  the  field  of  battle. 

Crawford  would  gladly  have  attacked  the  foe  early  in  the  day, 
but  the  volunteers  seemed  in  a  poor  condition  for  the  undertak 
ing.  Many  of  the  men  were  sick  from  the  fatigues  of  the  march. 
Others  were  suffering  from  the  combined  effects  of  the  heat  and 
of  the  poisonous  water  which  they  had  been  compelled  to  drink. 
Besides  these  there  were  nineteen  wounded.  Fifteen  or  twenty 
more  were  required  to  nurse  the  sick.  These  subtractions  from 
the  little  army  so  weakened  its  strength  for  the  time  being  that 


564  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

it  was  thought  best  to  withhold  the  attack  until  nightfall.  The 
morning  was  spent  in  comparative  repose.  The  volunteers  were 
confident  of  an  easy  victory.  The  men  lay  in  the  shade,  already 
chatting  gayly  of  the  success  of  the  expedition.  Some  even 
talked  of  the  welcome  they  would  receive  on  their  return.  A 
change,  however,  was  to  come  over  the  spirit  of  the  idlers  in  the 
grove. 

An  hour  or  two  after  noon  a  sentinel  stationed  in  a  copse 
north-east  of  the  grove  discovered  a  small  speck  at  a  great  dis 
tance  in  the  prairie.  As  his  eager  eye  watched  the  apparition 
it  grew  larger.  A  few  moments  later  he  perceived  it  to  be  a 
body  of  mounted  men.  Pausing  yet  a  moment,  it  became  plain 
that  these  troops  were  white  men.  The  sentinel  stood  no  longer, 
but  dashed  toward  his  commander  with  information  of  the  dis 
covery.  The  grove  at  once  became  the  scene  of  animation  and 
excitement.  The  loungers  sprang  from  their  mossy  couches  and 
buckled  on  their  fierce  equipment  for  battle.  Horses  were  sad 
dled,  the  wounded  were  carried  to  the  rear.  While  the  volun 
teers  were  thus  making  their  active  preparations  for  a  battle, 
the  officers  were  grouped  in  a  hurried  council  of  war.  The  no 
tion  of  an  attack  was  at  once  abandoned,  in  the  presence  of  the 
civilized  foe.  A  defensive  policy  was  all  that  remained.  It  was 
no  longer  a  question  of  the  destruction  of  the  Indian  towns ;  it- 
was  a  question  of  the  destruction  of  the  army. 

While  deliberating  upon  the  critical  situation,  another  scout 
came  running  in  with  the  news  of  the  approach  of  other  re-en 
forcements  to  the  enemy.  The  officers  looked  with  anxious  gaze 
in  the  direction  indicated;  there  they  beheld,  in  full  career  over 
the  open  prairie,  the  painted  warriors  of  the  Shawanese,  with 
fluttering  plumes  and  fantastic  decorations,  coming  to  the  help 
of  their  brethren. 

Let  us  take  a  survey  of  the  situation.  Crawford  and  his 
men  were  still  encamped  in  the  small  grove.  To  the  north  of 
them,  in  the  direction  of  their  town,  were  encamped  the  Wyan- 
dots,  supported  by  the  newly  arrived  Butler's  Rangers.  To  the 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  565 

south  of  the  grove,  and  a  little  to  the  west  of  the  trail  along 
which  the  army  had  come,  were  posted  the  Dela wares.  This 
position  they  had  assumed  during  the  battle  of  the  previous  day. 
Posted  as  they  were,  in  the  rear  of  Crawford,  they  endangered 
his .  retreat.  The  Shawanese,  as  if  by  previous  arrangement, 
encamped  to  the  south-east  of  the  grove.  The  trail  along  which 
the  army  must  pass  in  case  of  retreat  was  thus  made  to  run  be 
tween  the  two  camps  of  the  Shawanese  and  the  Dela  wares — a 
maneuver  of  great  skill. 

As  the  council  of  war  continued,  small  squads  of  Indians 
were  discovered  pouring  in  from  all  quarters  as  re-enforcements. 
But  one  course  was  open  to  the  Americans.  That  was  retreat. 
Orders  were  given  for  a  retrograde  movement,  to  commence  at 
nine  o'clock  that  night.  The  dead  were  buried.  For  the  seven 
dangerously  wounded,  litters  were  made.  The  army  was  to 
march  in  four  divisions,  keeping  the  wounded  in  the  center. 
As  soon  as  it  was  dark  the  sentinels  were  called  in,  and  the 
body  formed  for  the  march,  with  Crawford  at  the  head. 

At  the  moment  of  starting,  the  enemy,  having  discovered 
the  intentions  of  the  Americans,  opened  a  hot  fire.  Some  of 
the  men  became  alarmed.  The  arrangements  for  a  regular 
retreat  were,  in  the  excitement  and  panic  of  the  moment,  for 
gotten.  The  men  in  the  foremost  ranks  started  to  run,  and,  the 
example  being  contagious,  the  whole  army  was  soon  in  full 
flight.  The  seven  men  in  the  litters  were  left  behind.  Of 
these,  five  were  helped  upon  comrades'  horses.  Two  unfortu 
nate  men  were  left  to  the  insatiate  vengeance  of  the  savages. 
The  first  division,  under  Major  McClelland,  was  soon  engaged 
with  the  Delawares  and  Shawanese.  McClelland  fell  from  his 
horse,  dangerously  wounded,  at  the  first  fire.  Calling  to  John 
Orr,  who  was  on  foot,  the  wounded  captain  bade  the  man 
take  his  horse,  and  make  his  escape,  which  he  did.  In  the 
darkness  and  confusion  McClelland  was  believed  by  the  few 
who  saw  him  fall,  either  to  have  been  killed  outright,  or 
to  have  been  trampled  to  death  under  the  hoofs  of  the 


566  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

oncoming  horses.  In  fact,  he  was  reserved  for  a  more  dread 
ful  fate. 

The  enemy,  on  their  part,  fearful  lest  Crawford's  movements 
formed  some  kind  of  maneuver,  and  not  a  flight,  hesitated  in 
their  pursuit.  Meanwhile,  the  rear  divisions,  seeing  McClel- 
land's  party  furiously  attacked  by  the  Delawares,  bore  off  to  the 
south-west  to  avoid  the  Indians,  leaving  their  struggling  com 
panions  to  their  left.  At  an  earlier  point  in  the  narrative  men 
tion  has  been  made  of  a  vast  cranberry  swamp,  lying  west  of 
the  trail  followed  by  the  army  in  its  advance.  Into  this  swamp, 
owing  to  the  darkness,  some  of  the  Americans  unfortunately 
blundered.  Many  of  the  men  were  compelled  to  leave  their 
horses  hopelessly  mired  in  the  bog.  To  add  to  their  danger, 
the  Americans  were  attacked  in  the  rear  by  the  enemy,  suffer 
ing  considerable  loss.  The  remainder  skirted  the  morass  on 
the  west,  clear  around,  to  a  point  nearly  opposite  that  of  their 
entrance  to  the  swamp. 

A  little  before  daylight  they  again  found  themselves  on  the 
trail,  having,  in  their  march,  described  a  half  circle  around  the 
swamp,  of  which  the  center  was  the  present  town  of  Upper 
Sandusky.  The  men  of  McClelland's  division  had  fought  their 
way  along  the  diameter  of  the  circle,  and,  in  a  badly  demoral 
ized  condition,  reunited  with  their  friends  at  the  deserted  Wy- 
andot  village.  At  this  point  a  halt  was  made.  Straggling 
parties  came  up  with  the  others,  until  nearly  three  hundred  of 
the  volunters  were  once  more  together. 

An  investigation  was  made,  to  find  who  were  missing.  To 
the  great  sorrow  of  the  entire  army,  Colonel  Crawford  was 
nowhere  to  be  found.  Nothing  was  known  of  him.  Whether 
killed,  captured,  or  escaped  was  a  matter  of  conjecture.  Dr. 
John  Knight  and  John  Slover,  together  with  the  brave  McClel 
land,  were  also  missing.  The  command  of  the  army  now 
devolved  upon  Williamson,  who,  seconded  by  the  brilliant  mili 
tary  genius  of  Rose,  made  the  most  powerful  exertions  to  rally 
the  broken  army  for  a  regular  retreat. 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  567 

Even  in  the  midst  of  such  tragic  scenes  as  these  occur  inci 
dents  calculated  to  provoke  a  smile.  One  of  the  volunteers 
discovered  a  brass  kettle,  left  in  a  deserted  Indian  sugar-camp. 
In  spite  of  his  peril,  the  prize  was  too  great  for  his  prudence. 
He  dismounted  from  his  horse,  seized  a  huge  bowlder,  and 
pounded  the  utensil  flat  for  transportation.  Through  all  the 
exciting  scenes  of  the  retreat,  this  article  kept  its  place  on 
Vance's  saddle. 

John  Sherrard,  the  man  who  had  carried  water  to  his  com 
rades  during  the  battle,  had,  in  the  confusion  of  the  flight  from 
the  grove,  become  separated  from  his  companions.  In  company 
with  Daniel  Harbaugh,  he  followed  the  track  of  the  army  as 
best  he  could.  Riding  through  the  forest  soon  after  sunrise  on 
the  6th,  Harbaugh,  less  agile  than  his  companion,  was  shot  by 
an  Indian.  Sherrard,  sickened  at  the  death  of  his  companion, 
nevertheless  removed  the  saddle  and  bridle  from  the  dead  man's 
horse  and  substituted  them  for  his  own,  which  were  inferior. 
He  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance,  when  he  recklessly 
resolved  to  return  for  a  pack  of  provisions  which  he  had  left 
tied  to  his  own  saddle.  Securing  this,  he  resumed  his  journey, 
and  overtook  the  retreating  army. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  6th  of  June,  the 
retreating  army,  by  that  time  somewhat  rallied  from  the  demor 
alization  of  the  night,  were  attacked  from  the  rear  by  a  large 
force  of  the  enemy.  The  volunteers  succeeded  in  beating  off  the 
foe,  an  achievement  in  which  they  were  aided  by  a  terrible 
thunder-storm  which  broke  over  the  combatants.  When  the 
rain  ceased  the  foe  renewed  the  attack,  and  at  night  the  two 
armies  slept  within  sight  of  each  other.  In  the  morning  shots 
were  again  exchanged  near  the  spot  where  the  village  of  Crest 
line  now  stands.  Thenceforth  the  retreat  of  the  broken  and 
dispirited  army  was  continued  without  interruption. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  volunteers  all  reached  home 
at  once.  For  days  they  continued  to  straggle  back.  Some  of 
the  men  became  completely  bewildered.  Nicholas  Dawson  had 


568  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

become  separated  from  his  companions,  and  was  endeavoring  to 
make  his  way  home  when  he  was  discovered  by  two  other  vol 
unteers.  Dawson  at  that  time  was  traveling  in  exactly  the  wrong 
direction,  going  back  toward  Sandusky.  The  men  attempted  to 
convince  him  of  his  error,  but  he  pertinaciously  insisted  that  he 
was  right.  At  last  the  men  told  him  that  he  would  certainly 
be  captured  by  the  savages  and  tortured  to  death  if  he  pro 
ceeded  in  his  present  course,  and  that  as  it  would  be  better  for 
him  to  die  from  a  painless  and  sudden  gun-shot  wound  than 
from  the  merciless  barbarities  of  the  savages,  they  would  kill 
him  out  of  friendship.  This  argument  proved  successful.  Daw- 
son  turned  about  reluctantly,  and,  with  the  others,  reached  home 
in  safety. 

Philip  Smith  and  a  young  man  named  Rankin  had  also 
become  separated  from  the  army,  owing  to  the  loss  of  their 
horses.  They  had  their  guns,  but  were  afraid  to  use  them  to 
procure  game  for  fear  of  attracting  the  attention  of  the  Indians. 
By  chance  they  came  across  an  Indian  pony,  which  Smith  under 
took  to  dispatch  with  his  tomahawk.  The  animal,  however, 
proved  to  be  an  expert  dodger.  Rankin  at  last  blindfolded  it, 
and  thus  enabled  Smith  to  deal  a  fatal  blow.  On  the  flesh  of 
the  pony  they  subsisted  for  some  time. 

On  the  third  night  of  their  retreat  two  volunteers  on  horses 
fell  in  with  them.  While  proceeding  along  the  banks  of  a  stream 
they  were  ambuscaded  by  four  savages.  Smith  was  in  the  act 
of  stooping  to  get  a  drink  from  the  river.  The  two  men  on 
horseback  were  shot  dead.  Smith  seized  a  gun  and  ran  up  the 
bank  after  his  .companion,  Rankin,  who  had  also  taken  to  flight. 
The  latter  mistook  Smith  for  a  enemy,  and  three  times  attempted 
to  shoot  him.  He  succeeded,  however,  in  dodging,  until  he  came 
near  enough  to  be  recognized.  Escaping  from  these  Indians, 
the  wanderers  came  upon  a  camp,  evidently  just  deserted.  A 
white  man,  freshly  scalped,  lay  on  the  ground.  As  they  looked 
at  him,  he  took  his  hand  and  rubbed  his  bloody  head.  He  had 
been  scalped  while  alive,  but,  of  course,  death  was  near.  Over 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  569 

the  camp  fire  hung  a  pot  of  boiling  hominy.  This  the  famished 
wanderers  feared  to  eat  lest  it  should  be  poisoned.  They,  at 
last,  reached  home  naked,  footsore,  and  famished.  To  acquaint 
ances  they  were  unrecognizable.  The  loved  ones  of  their  fam 
ilies,  however,  knew  the  wanderers  at  once. 

Many  were  the  cabins  of  the  frontier  in  which  were  weep 
ing  of  women  and  wailing  of  children  for  the  brave  ones  which 
returned  not.  Sherrard  made  his  home  with  the  widowed 
mother  of  James  Paull,  who  had  also  accompanied  the  expe 
dition.  Concerning  her  boy  nothing  could  be  learned.  At  the 
moment  of  retreat  from  the  grove,  Sherrard  noticed  that  the 
young  man  was  sound  asleep.  He  gave  the  sleeper  a  shake, 
and  shouted,  "  Up,  James  !  let  's  be  off.  They  're  all  starting, 
and  we  '11'  be  left."  He  had  seen  the  young  man  spring  to  his 
feet,  but  at  that  moment  lost  sight  of  him  in  the  darkness,  and 
of  his  fate  could  tell  nothing.  The  poor  widow  bore  her 
mighty  sorrow  alone,  and  never  ceased  to  look  for  the  return 
of  her  boy. 

Sherrard  had  another  distressing  scene  to  go  through  with. 
As  soon  as  he  had  obtained  a  little  rest,  he  started  to  return 
the  pack-saddle  of  Daniel  Harbaugh,  which  he  had  taken  from 
his  dead  companion's  horse,  to  his  widow.  The  story  \  of  her 
husband's  death  was  heart-breaking  to  the  sorrowing  woman. 
She,  however,  knew  that  he  was  dead.  Though  stricken  with 
grief  she  was  not  doomed  to  be  haunted  forever  after  by  a  fear 
ful  uncertainty. 

Among  those  who  could  learn  nothing  definite  concerning 
their  loved  relatives,  was  Hannah  Crawford,  wife  of  the  colonel 
in  command  of  the  expedition.  For  a  long  time  she  suffered 
from  hope  deferred  until  the  heart  grew  sick  indeed.  When  at 
last  she  heard  the  awful  truth,  which  will  be  hereafter  related 
in  these  pages,  she  was  of  all  the  sorrowing  ones  of  the  stricken 
frontier  the  most  to  be  commiserated. 

As  has  been  stated,  to  the  genius  and  exertions  of  John 
Rose,  aid-de-camp  to  Colonel  Crawford,  more  than  to  any  thing 


570  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

else  was  due  the  fact  that  so  many  of  the  expedition  escaped 
destruction.  Without  detailing  his  further  splendid  services  to 
the  colonies,  we  here  give  his  own  explanation  of  the  mystery 
which  surrounded  him.  Just  before  leaving  America,  he  wrote 
to  his  friend,  General  Irvine,  his  true  history.  His  name,  he 
said,  was  not  John  Rose,  but  Gustavus  H.  de  Rosenthal,  of  Lav- 
onia,  Russia,  a  baron  of  the  empire.  He  had  had  a  duel, 
brought  on  by  a  blow  inflicted  by  his  enemy  upon  an  aged 
uncle.  In  the  encounter,  which  took  place  in  an  apartment  in 
the  royal  palace  at  St.  Petersburg,  he  had  killed  his  antagonist. 
He  at  once  fled  to  America  to  draw  his  sword  in  behalf  of  the 
colonies.  At  the  close  of  the  Revolution  he  received  from  the 
emperor  a  pardon,  as  a  result  of  which  he  returned  to  his 
native  land. 

It  yet  remains  for  us  to  detail  the  remarkable  adventures,  or 
perchance  the  tragic  doom,  of  those  men  who,  either  at  the 
moment  of  retreat  from  the  grove,  or  subsequently  in  the  con 
fusion  and  entanglement  in  the  cranberry  marsh,  became  at  once 
separated  from  their  companions  and  found  themselves  alone  in 
the  midst  of  an  enemy's  country,  separated  from  the  nearest 
white  settlement  by  a  wilderness  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles 
in  width,  infested  by  swarms  of  hostile  Indians,  who  were 
certain  to  scour  the  woods  in  every  direction  in  search  of  strag 
glers  from  the  retreating  and  broken  army. 

Among  those  who  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  their  horses  in 
the  mire  of  the  cranberry  marsh  were  John  Slover,  the  guide, 
and  James  Paull.  These,  with  five  others,  being  pursued  by 
savages,  fled  in  a  northerly  direction.  After  pursuing  this 
course  all  night  they  turned,  for  some  unaccountable  reason, 
toward  the  south-west.  About  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  they 
halted  to  eat.  Each  man  had  a  scrap  of  pork.  From  this  they 
proposed  to  make  a  sumptuous  breakfast. 

Hardly  had  the  poor  fellows  seated  themselves  on  the 
ground  when  a  file  of  Indian  warriors  was  discovered  coming 
along  a  neighboring  trail  which  the  volunteers  had  not  observed. 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRA  WFORD.  571 

The  latter  ran  off,  leaving  their  baggage  and  provisions,  but 
were  not  discovered.  Their  loss  of  provisions,  scanty  though 
the  supply  was,  was  a  most  serious  mishap.  At  last  they 
resolved  to  return  and  secure  them,  which  was  accomplished 
successfully.  At  twelve  o'clock  they  perceived  another  party 
of  Indians  approaching,  but  by  skulking  in  the  grass  and  bushes 
of  the  prairie,  they  again  escaped  discovery. 

The  progress  of  the  party  was  slow,  one  of  the  men  having 
burnt  his  foot,  and  the  other  being  attacked  with  rheumatism, 
contracted  from  exposure  to  the  rain  storm  which  has  been  pre 
viously  mentioned.  When  at  last  they  struck  woodland,  they 
turned  due  east  in  their  line  of  march.  On  the  7th  of  June, 
the  man  with  the  rheumatism  was  left  behind  in  a  swamp. 
"  Waiting  for  him  some  time,"  says  Slover,  in  his  narrative,  "  I 
saw  him  coming  within  one  hundred  yards,  as  I  sat  on  the  body 
of  an  old  tree  mending  my  moccasins ;  but  taking  my  eye  from 
him  I  saw  him  no  more.  He  had  not  observed  our  tracks,  but 
had  gone  a  different  way.  We  whistled  on  our  chargers,  and 
afterwards  halloed  for  him,  but  in  vain."  This  man  afterwards 
reached  his  home  in  safety.  The  terrible  adventures  which  he 
escaped  by  thus  missing  his  way  will  be  hereafter  related. 

The  man  with  the  burned  foot  was  James  Paull.  On  the 
afternoon  of  the  5th,  in  making  their  hurried  preparations  for 
retreat,  he,  with  many  others,  was  engaged  in  baking  bread.  In 
this  task  some  of  the  men,  for  want  of  a  better  baking-pan, 
made  use  of  a  spade  which  had  been  picked  up  in  the  deso 
lated  settlement  of  the  Moravians.  When  the  last  loaf  had 
been  turned  out,  the  hot  spade  was  thrown  down,  and  Paull 
had  stepped  on  it  with  his  bare  foot,  burning  himself  badly. 

Passing  through  what  is  now  Wayne  county,  about  nine 
o'clock  on  the  8th  of  June,  the  party  was  ambuscaded  by  a 
band  of  Shawanese.  With  tireless  pertinacity,  these  red  detec 
tives  of  the  wilderness  had  all  the  while  been  on  the  trail  of 
the  fugitives.  Two  of  the  white  men  were  shot  dead.  Paull, 
notwithstanding  his  burnt  foot,  ran  for  his  life,  and  escaped. 


572  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Slover  and  the  other  two  men  were  taken  captives.  By  a 
remarkable  coincidence,  one  of  the  captors  had  been  in  the  party 
which  had  captured  Slover  in  the  mountains  of  Virginia  when 
but  a  boy.  The  Indian,  however,  had  nothing  but  curses  for 
his  old  acquaintance.  Sick  at  heart,  the  three  prisoners  started 
for  the  Shawanese  towns,  on  Mad  River,  in  what  is  now  Logan 
county,  Ohio. 

On  the  third  day  after  their  capture  they  came  in  sight  of 
a  small  Indian  village.  Slover  had  hoped  that  his  old  captor 
might  treat  him  with  some  clemency.  On  his  entrance  to  the 
village  this  hope  was  dashed  in  pieces.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
place,  crazy  with  joy  over  the  great  victory  at  Sandusky,  were 
delighted  to  find  that  the  fun  was  not  yet  over.  They  at  once 
began  the  enjoyment  of  abusing  the  captives.  The  three  white 
men  were  beaten  with  clubs,  chastised  with  lashes,  and  buf 
feted  by  the  vile  mob  from  one  side  of  the  village  to  the  other. 

This  treatment  was  not  the  most  ominous  circumstance. 
The  rabble  seized  one  of  Slover's  companions,  the  oldest  man 
in  the  party,  and  stripped  him  naked.  Two  of  them  at  once 
began  the  task  of  painting  the  unfortunate  man  black.  As  the 
artists  progressed  with  their  work  a  dense  throng  of  hideous 
squaws  and  screaming  children  surrounded  them,  watching 
every  stroke  of  the  brush  with  intense  interest.  The  captive, 
alarmed  at  the  proceeding,  began  to  surmise  that  it  was  an  indi 
cation  that  he  was  to  be  burnt.  He  broke  down  in  tears,  and 
called  to  Slover,  asking  him  what  it  meant.  With  devilish 
temper,  the  Indians  warned  Slover  not  to  tell  the  man  any  thing. 

The  three  men  were  next  told  that  they  were  to  run  the 
gauntlet  to  the  council-house,  which  was  about  a  thousand  feet 
away.  Foremost  in  the  dreadful  race  ran  the  man  who  had 
been  painted  black.  Upon  him  were  concentrated  the  chief 
efforts  of  the  savages.  Many  fired  powder  into  his  flesh  as  he 
passed  them.  Stunned,  bruised,  and  bleeding  from  the  assaults 
of  his  enemies,  the  poor  man  was  unable  to  reach  the  goal  as 
soon  as  Slover  and  his  companion.  When  he  did  so,  his  body 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD. 


573 


had  been  gashed  in  a  dozen  places  with  tomahawks.     Here  and 
there  large   holes   had   been  burnt  in  the   flesh.     A  gun  wad, 


SLOVER'S   COMPANION    RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET. 


fired  into  his  neck,  had  inflicted  a  painful   wound,  from   which 
the  blood  streamed  in  large  quantities. 

Shattered  as  he  was,  through  exertions  nerved  by  despair 


574  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

itself,  he  reached  the  council-house.  Exultant  with  hope,  he 
stretched  out  his  hand  to  lay  hold  of  the  door.  But  for  him 
there  was  no  rest,  no  mercy.  While  his  hand  was  still  extended 
in  the  belief  that  he  had  secured ' temporary  safety,  a  dozen 
slimy  hands  jerked  him  back  from  the  door,  whose  refuge 
mocked  him.  Again  and  again,  he  fought  to  tear  himself  loose 
from  their  grasp.  But  a  few  steps  would  he  run,  till  again  he 
was  seized  and  hurled  back. 

Though  growing  weaker  at  every  moment,  and  frantic  with 
despair,  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  still  remained  to  him, 
and  he  sought  to  wrest  from  his  tormentors  a  club  or  toma 
hawk.  Perceiving  his  purpose,  the  savages  would  hold  out  to 
him  their  weapons,  and  then,  as  his  eager  fingers  were  about  to 
clutch  the  object,  would  snatch  it  away  with  hideous  laugh 
ter,  and  deal  the  wretch  another  blow.  Sometimes  they  would 
allow  him  to  run  from  them  a  considerable  distance,  only  to 
make  his  recapture  the  occasion  for  a  pretended  punishment 
and  renewed  beatings. 

There  is  a  limit  to  human  endurance.  There  is  a  point, 
beyond  which  the  will,  electric,  exalted,  sublime,  can  no  longer 
sustain  one.  That  point  was  reached.  The  captive  fell  to  the 
ground.  As  the  showers  of  blows  were  rained  upon  him,  he 
no  longer  fought  back  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tiger  and  the  cour 
age  of  a  madman.  He  only  feebly  tried  to  screen  his  face  and 
head  with  his  lacerated  arms.  At  last  even  this  frail  defense 
gave  way.  The  blows  of  the  club  and  the  tomahawk  fell  upon 
the  body  of  the  prostrate  man,  and  met  with  neither  resistance 
nor  retaliation.  Now  and  then  a  sob,  a  gasp,  a  quiver  was  to 
be  heard  escaping  from  his  lips.  Finally,  even  these  last,  faint 
flutterings  of  life  disappeared.  The  spirit  had  departed,  leav 
ing  the  shapeless  mass,  which  had  been  its  splendid  home,  to 
be  tossed  by  cruel  hands  to  hungry  dogs. 

That  evening  Slover,  with  an  anguish  in  his  heart  which  no 
pen  can  describe,  looked  on  not  only  this  scene,  but  also  on 
three  other  black  and  mangled  bodies.  As  they  lay  in  all  their 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  575 

mutilation,  the  scout  could  recognize  in  one  the  remains  of 
William  Harrison,  the  son-in-law  of  Colonel  Crawford.  Remov 
ing  his  eye  to  the  second  corpse,  he  saw  in  it  young  William 
Crawford,  the  youthful  nephew  of  the  commander.  The  third 
corpse  was  that  of  Major  John  McClelland.  These  three 
brave  men  had  furnished  a  gorge  of  infernal  revelry  for  the 
beastly  savages.  The  heads  and  limbs  were  impaled  on  lofty 
poles  in  the  center  of  the  town.  The  trunks  became  food 
for  dogs. 

Harrison  was  one  of  the  most  noted  men  in  the  Ohio  valley. 
He  was  a  lawyer  of  polished  education  and  lofty  intellect.  He 
had  rendered  distinguished  services  to  the  colonies. 

The  surviving  companion  of  Slover  was  shortly  sent  away 
to  another  town.  Of  his  fate  we  have  no  account.  There  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  it  was  different  from  that  of  the  brave 
men  which  we  have  described.  That  night  a  great  council  was 
held  in  the  village.  Slover  was  placed  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
and  there  subjected  to  every  question  which  the  Indian  intellect 
could  invent. 

The  council  lasted  fifteen  days.  In  it  were  represented  a 
dozen  different  tribes.  Here  in  this  assembly  all  the  pride,  all 
the  exultation,  all  the  savage  joy  to  which  the  destruction  of 
Crawford's  army  had  given  rise  found  expression.  No  rhetoric 
was  bombastic  enough  for  the  vanity  of  the  orators  ;  no  con 
gratulations  were  complimentary  enough  for  the  pride  of  the 
warriors. 

In  the  midst  of  the  council  was  received  a  message  from  the 
commandant  at  Detroit.  Of  this  communication  the  key-note 
was  clear  to  the  dullest  ear.  It  bade  the  Indians  to  take  no 
more  prisoners.  The  exhortation  was  received  with  a  mighty 
uproar  of  applause.  The  council  resolved  to  follow  the  advice. 
Henceforth  they  were  to  take  no  more  prisoners,  but  kill  outright 
every  unfortunate  who  fell  into  their  hands.  This  was  not  all. 
In  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment  they  determined  that  if  any 
tribe  not  represented  at  the  council  took  any  captives,  the  others 


576  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


would  go  upon  the  war-path,  take  away  the  captives,  and  put 
them  to  death. 

During  these  days  Slover  suffered  more  from  the  villainous 
white  men  in  the  village,  who  were  continually  instigating  the 
savage  mind  to  cruelty,  than  from  the  Indians  themselves.  .Simon 
Girty  was  there.  This  abominable  liar  almost  drove  the  inhab 
itants  of  the  place  insane  by  telling  them  that  he  had  asked 
Slover  how  he  liked  to  live  there,  and  that  he  had  answered 
that  he  intended  at  the  first  opportunity  to  take  a  scalp  and 
escape. 

Another  white  man  came  to  him  and  told  him  that  his  home 
had  been  in  Virginia ;  that  he  had  three  brothers  there,  and 
wanted  to  get  away.  Slover  was  too  ol.d  a  scout  to  say  any 
thing  to  the  treacherous  villain.  This  prudence,  however,  did 
not  save  him.  The  fellow  went  off  and  reported  in  the  village 
that  Slover  had  consented  to  go  with  him. 

There  was  another  white  man  in  the  place.  He  lived  two 
miles  from  the  town,  in  a  house  built  of  squared  logs,  with  a 
shingle  roof.  He  dressed  in  a  gorgeous  uniform  of  gold-laced 
clothes.  He  spoke  but  little  in  the  council.  When  he  did  it 
had  a  marked  effect.  He  did  not  question  Slover,  but  during 
all  the  time  he  seemed  to  be  oblivious  of  the  latter's  presence 
in  the  town.  He  never  spoke  to  him.  This  man  was  in  the 
employ  of  the  British  Government.  He  was  the  counterpart  of 
Girty  and  Elliott.  His  name  was  Alexander  McKee. 

On  the  morning  after  the  close  of  the  council  Slover  was 
sitting  before  the  door  of  the  cabin  where  he  had  been  kept. 
A  file  of  forty  Indian  warriors  suddenly  came  up  and  surrounded 
the  cabin.  Their  captain  was  a  white  man.  It  was  George 
Girty,  a  brother  of  Simon.  These  Indians  took  Slover,  and  put 
a  rope  around  his  neck.  They  stripped  him  naked.  His  arms 
were  bound  behind  him,  and  he  was  painted  black  from  head  to 
foot.  During  this  operation  Girty  stood  before  him,  hurling  at 
him  a  storm  of  curses.  Slover  was  then  taken  to  a  town  five 
miles  away.  Being  a  stranger,  the  inhabitants  of  the  place  had 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRA  WFORD.  577 


prepared  a  reception  for  him.  The  emblem  of  their  hospitality 
was  the  war  club  ;  their  method  of  expressing  it  was  falling  upon 
Slover,  and  beating  him  half  to  death. 

Two  miles  away  was  another  town.  It  was  not  far  from  the 
site  of  what  is  now  West  Liberty,  Logan  County,  Ohio.  Only 
one-half  of  the  council  house  had  a  roof.  Slover  noticed  this. 
In  the  center  of  that  part  of  the  structure  which  had  no  cover 
ing  was  a  huge  post,  sixteen  feet  in  height.  About  four  feet 
from  the  post  were  three  large  piles  of  firewood.  Slover  was 
taken  to  the  post.  One  rope  was  passed  around  his  neck,  another 
about  his  waist,  and  a  third  about  his  feet.  These  were  tightly 
bound  to  the  post.  This  done,  a  large  savage,  carrying  a  torch, 
stuck  it  into  the  dry  wood,  which  quickly  leaped  into  flame. 

At  this  moment  a  wind  began  to  roar  through  the  forest, 
swaying  the  trees  in  a  frightful  manner.  The  dust  in  the 
streets  of  the  village  was  caught  up  and  whirled  along  in 
mighty  clouds.  Terrific  thunder-peals  seemed  to  split  asunder 
the  sky-dome.  The  crowd  around  the  stake  withdrew  their 
fascinated  gaze  from  the  dreadful  drama  being  there  enacted, 
and  looked  with  apprehension  at  the  darkening  landscape  and 
the  ragged  storm-line  which  was  rapidly  approaching.  Huge 
drops  of  rain  began  to  fall.  With  screams  and  pushings  the 
crowd  scrambled  for  the  sheltered  part  of  the  council-house. 
Here  and  there  an  old  squaw  or  an  aged  warrior  stood  stolidly 
where  they  were,  as  if  to  express  their  contempt  for  the  others, 
while  the  floods  of  water  which  now  descended  drenched  them 
to  the  skin. 

The  fire  was  quickly  extinguished.  The  rain  lasted  about 
twenty  minutes.  When  it  was  over,  and  the  sun  reappeared  in 
an  azure  sky  from  which  the  clouds  were  rapidly  clearing,  the 
Indians  stood  still  for  some  minutes,  awe-stricken  and  silent. 

At  last  the  spell  was  broken.  The  crowd  before  so  still 
became  noisy  and  turbulent.  A  dispute  arose.  Some  wanted 
to  proceed  with  the  torture,  the  prevailing  part  insisted  on  sav 
ing  the  prisoner  until  the  next  morning.  Slover  was  untied. 

32 


578  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Even  though  the  respite  was  short,  his  spirits  rose.  Making 
him  sit  down  the  Indians  began  a  war  dance  around  him. 

At  eleven  o'clock  at  night  Half  Moon  asked  Slover  if  he 
was  sleepy,  The  captive  answered  "  Yes."  Three  Indians  were 
appointed  for  his  guard.  Taking  him  to  a  block-house,  they 
tied  his  arms  around  the  wrists  and  above  the  elbows  so  tightly 
that  the  cord  cut  deep  into  the  flesh.  To  his  neck  was  fast 
ened  a  rope,  the  other  end  of  which  was  tied  to  a  beam  in 
the  house.  It  was  long  enough  to  permit  him  to  lie  down  on 
a  couch,  which  consisted  of  a  board. 

Slover,  overcome  with  anxiety  at  the  fate  prepared  for  him, 
waited  nervously  hour  after  hour  for  his  guards  to  go  to  sleep. 
But  they  too,  though  from  different  motives,  were  full  of  excited 
interest  concerning  the  festivities  of  the  morrow.  Not  till  an 
hour  before  daybreak  did  they  weary  in  their  animated  con 
versation.  At  that  hour  two  of  them  lay  down  and  went  to 
sleep.  The  third  copper-colored  gentleman  came  over  and  ques 
tioned  Slover  as  to  how  he  would  like  "eating  fire."  The  pris 
oner  was  giving  up  his  last  earthly  hope  for  a  chance  to  escape, 
when  to  his  great  joy  the  third  Indian  rolled  over  and  began 
to  snore. 

The  scout  instantly  set  to  work.  Turning  on  his  right  side 
he  managed  little  by  little,  with  infinite  effort  and  skill,  to  slip 
the  cords  from  his  left  arm.  At  that  moment  his  heart  sank 
within  him.  One  of  the  warriors  rose  and  stirred  the  fire. 
Slover  expected  to  have  his  bonds  examined,  and  thought  all 
was  over.  But  the  sleepy  savage  lay  down  and  again  became 
unconscious. 

There  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  It  was  within  a  few  minutes 
of  daybreak.  The  people  of  the  village  were  likely  to  rise  early 
in  preparation  for  the  sports  of  the  day.  Some  old  squaws  might 
already  be  stirring  in  the  lodges.  Slover  made  frantic  efforts 
to  loosen  the  rope  from  his  neck.  He  tried  to  gnaw  it,  but 
might  as  well  have  bitten  a  bar  of  iron  as  to  chew  the  cursed 
buffalo  hide.  He  tugged  at  it  till  his  fingers  bled.  But  all 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  579 

in  vain.  At  last,  just  at-  daybreak,  he  discovered,  to  his  joy, 
that  it  was  a  slip-knot.  He  pulled  the  noose  apart,  slipped  it 
over  his  head,  lightly  stepped  over  the  sleeping  warriors,  and 
left  the  cabin. 

He  sped  through  the  town,  passing  a  squaw  and  five  chil 
dren  who  were  asleep  under  a  tree,  and  jumped  into  a  cornfield. 
Here  he  untied  his  right  arm,  which  had  swollen  till  it  had 
turned  black.  Collecting  his  thoughts,  he  remembered  to  have 
seen  some  horses  on  his  way  to  the  cornfield.  He  started  back, 
snatched  up  an  old  quilt  hanging  on  a  fence,  quickly  caught  one 
of  the  horses  by  the  mane,  threw  the  rope,  with  which  he  had 
himself  been  tied,  around  the  horse's  neck  for  a  halter,  sprang 
astride  the  animal  and  galloped  away. 

His  course  lay  to  the  north-east.  On  he  dashed,  without  a 
pause  or  a  backward  look.  His  horse  was  strong  and  swift. 
He  had  only  the  quilt  for  a  saddle,  and  the  rope  halter  for  a 
bridle.  He  was  entirely  naked.  As  his  horse  plunged  through 
the  forest,  the  branches  of  the  trees  lacerated  his  bare  body 
until  he  was  covered  with  blood  from  head  to  foot.  Yet  of  this 
he  was  unconscious.  He  felt  not  the  strokes  and  bruises.  He 
noticed  not  the  torn  flesh,  nor  the  flowing  blood.  He  only  knew 
that  he  was  flying,  flying  from  fiends  and  flames  to  liberty  and 
life ;  flying  from  torture  and  the  stake  to  home  and  friends. 
Fifty  miles  away  lay  the  blue  Scioto.  For  his  horse  he  had  no 
mercy,  but  mindful  of  the  keen  and  swift  pursuers,  who  were 
already  swarming  after  him,  devising  in  their  hellish  hearts  new 
and  fearful  vengeance,  he  urged  the  animal  on,  hour  after  hour, 
at  its  topmost  speed. 

At  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  he  reached  the  Scioto.  At 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  had  left  the  river  twenty-five 
miles  behind  him.  At  this  point  his  horse  failed.  All  its  splen 
did  powers  had  been  expended  in  the  noble  race.  Seventy-five 
miles  had  been  accomplished  in  eleven  hours.  It  could  go  no 
further.  Slover  instantly  sprang  from  the  animal,  and  started 
ahead  ruining  on  foot. 


580  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  sun  set  in  the  west,  but  still  he  ran.  Stars  came  out 
„  in  the  blue  canopy  of  night.  It  was  the  hour  of  repose  for  all 
mankind.  Yet  for  the  fugitive  there  was  neither  rest  nor  relief. 
Once  he  relaxed  into  a  walk.  At  that  moment  he  heard  halloo 
ing  behind  him.  It  may  have  been  the  phantom  of  his  fevered 
imagination,  the  offspring  of  a  brain  heated  with  surges  of  boil 
ing  blood.  No  matter.  The  fugitive  sprang  forward  as  if  every 
tree  in  the  forest  was  a  savage,  and  every  wandering  star-beam 
the  glint  of  a  rifle. 

Not  until  daybreak  did  Slover  resume  a  walk.  In  his  hand 
he  carried  a. crooked  stick.  Was  it  a  weapon,  a  means  of  defense 
against  his  pursuers  ?  No,  and  yes.  No,  because  it  was  as 
worthless  as  a  shadow  as  a  physical  weapon.  Yes,  because  by 
it  he  carefully  replaced  the  weeds  bent  by  his  feet,  in  order  to 
hide  his  trail.  Once  he  sat  down. 

That  moment  exhausted  nature  entered  a  protest.  He  vom 
ited.  Feeling  somewhat  better,  he  again  proceeded.  The  high 
excitement  of  the  previous  day  was  no  longer  present  to  sus 
tain  him.  He  became  painfully  conscious  of  his  wounds.  Poi 
soned  nettles  irritated  his  flesh.  Thorns  and  briers  stuck  in  his 
legs.  Swarms  of  flies  hovered  about  the  festering  sores.  Mill 
ions  of  mosquitoes  feasted  on  him,  lingering,  hurrying,  or  paus 
ing  with  their  victim.  Sleep  was  impossible.  His  only  defense 
was  the  piece  of  quilt,  and  a  handful  of  bushes  which  he  carried. 

On  the  third  day  about  three  o'clock  he  found  some  rasp 
berries.  This  was  the  first  food  he  had  eaten  since  the  morn 
ing  before  his  escape.  He  was  not  hungry,  but  extremely  weak. 
Yet  he  had  strength  enough  to  swim  the  Muskingum  at  a  point 
where  it  was  two  hundred  yards  wide.  On  the  fourth  day  h& 
found  two  small  crawfish,  and  ate  them.  The  next  night  he 
came  within  five  miles  of  Wheeling.  During  the  whole  time  he 
had  not  slept  one  moment.  When  opposite  Wheeling  he  saw  a 
man  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  called  to  him.  The 
stranger,  however,  was  not  disposed  to  venture  over  at  the  bid 
ding  of  such  a  wild  and  suspicious  looking  character  as  Slover. 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  581 

At  length,  by  earnest  persuasion,  and  by  naming  various 
persons  in  the  expedition,  known  to  the  stranger,  the  latter 
came  to  Slover's  help.  The  trials  of  the  fugitive  were  over. 
In  a  few  days  he  was  able  to  make  his  way  home.  Such  were 
the  powers  of  endurance  and  recuperation  of  the  iron  frames  of 
the  pioneers. 

Such  were  Slover's  adventures.  What  had  become  of  James 
Paull?  He,  as  will  be  remembered,  had  made  his  escape  into 
the  woods  at  the  moment  of  Slover's  capture.  He  was  pursued 
by  two  Indians.  Lamed  by  his  burnt  foot,  every  step  gave  him 
intolerable  pain.  In  spite  of  this  he  outran  his  pursuers,  seeing 
which  they  fired  at  him.  Coming  to  a  steep  bank  of  a  creek, 
he  fearlessly  leaped  over,  gun  in  hand.  At  this  moment  the 
savages  lost  sight  of  him,  and  either  abandoned  the  chase  or 
passed  another  way.  In  the  descent  of  the  precipice  Paull  had 
torn  his  burnt  foot  in  a  horrible  manner.  To  enable  him  to  pro 
ceed  at  all  he  was  forced  to  tear  a  strip  from  his  ragged  panta 
loons,  and  bind  it  around  the  injured  member. 

Paull  was  an  experienced  woodsman.  To  hide  his  trail  he 
walked  on  fallen  logs,  traveled  in  circles,  and,  climbing  trees, 
would  crawl  out  to  the  extremity  of  their  branches,  and  let  him 
self  drop.  At  night  he  slept  in  a  hollow  log.  In  the  morning 
the  unhappy  man  found  his  foot  swollen  to  the  size  of  a 
water  bucket.  He  had  no  provisions,  and  was  afraid  to  fire 
his  gun.  Nevertheless,  he  gathered  enough  wild  berries  to  sus 
tain  life. 

The  second  night  he  crawled  into  a  crevice  in  a  rock,  mak 
ing  himself  a  bed  of  leaves.  The  next  morning  he  saw  a  deer. 
At  that  moment  the  pangs  of  hunger  overcame  his  prudence. 
He  shot  the  animal.  But  he  had  no  knife ;  he  had  to  cut  open 
the  skin  with  his  gun-flint,  and  tear  off  the  flesh  with  his  fingers. 
This  he  ate  raw,  as  a  fire  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  Continuing 
his  journey,  he  crossed  the  Muskingum,  and  came  upon  an  aban 
doned  Indian  camp.  Some  empty  kegs  were  lying  around.  In 
one  of  them  he  ventured  to  kindle  a  little  fire  and  cook  some  veni- 


582  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

son.  When  he  lay  down  to  sleep  the  smoke  protected  him  from 
the  gnats  and  mosquitoes. 

In  two  days  he  reached  the  Ohio  River  at  a  point  above 
Wheeling.  Building  himself  a  rude  raft,  bound  together  with 
withes  of  bark,  he  crossed  the  Ohio,  and  for  the  first  time  felt 
himself  out  of  danger.  In  the  river  bottom  he  found  a  number 
of  horses.  He  at  once  set  to  work,  with  an  ingenuity  of  which 
only  the  most  skillful  pioneer  is  capable,  to  manufacture  a  rude 
halter  out  of  the  bark  of  trees. 

This  done,  he  attempted  to  capture  a  horse — a  much  more 
difficult  task.  The  animals  were  both  smart  and  wild.  They 
would  graze  quietly,  apparently  without  noticing  his  approach, 
until  his  hand  had  almost  grasped  the  mane  of  one  of  their 
number.  At  that  moment,  with  a  wild  snort  and  a  lofty  kick, 
they  would  turn  and  gallop  out  of  his  reach. 

After  great  trouble  Paull  succeeded  in  capturing  an  old  mare, 
the  worst  in  the  lot.  On  this  animal  he  continued  his  journey, 
finally  reaching  a  fort  near  Short  creek.  Here  the  inhabitants, 
alarmed  by  the  news  of  the  destruction  of  Crawford's  army, 
had  collected,  in  anxious  expectation  of  an  Indian  invasion. 
Here  too,  he  found  some  of  the  volunteers  who,  like  himself,  had 
escaped  from  the  clutches  of  the  savages.  Resting  for  a  day, 
he  procured  a  horse  that  was  a  horse,  and  proceeded  to  a  settle 
ment  where  he  had  some  relatives. 

For  some  time  he  was  detained  here  by  his  foot,  of  which 
the  terrible  inflammation  threatened  him  with  the  loss  of  the 
member.  In  time,  however,  he  made  his  way  back  to  the  hum 
ble  home  of  his  widowed  mother,  who,  ignorant  of  her  boy'& 
fate,  had  nevertheless  continued  to  watch  for  his  return. 

In  after  years  Paull  became  a  prominent  man  in  Virginia. 
He  took  an  active  part  in  the  Indian  campaigns  toward  the  close 
of  the  century.  His  descendants  are  numerous  and  of  high 
standing.  Personally  he  was  a  man  of  splendid  physique, 
formed  like  a  king,  and  bearing  the  head  of  a  philosopher.  He 
was  generous  to  a  fault,  and  possessed  a  heart  of  unflinching 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  583 

courage.  He  died  on  the  ninth  day  of  July,  1841,  at  his  home 
in  Fayette  County,  Virginia,  aged  nearly  eighty-one  years. 

Of  all  the  men  in  the  army  the  returned  volunteers  could 
tell  the  least  of  the  fate  of  Colonel  Crawford  and  Doctor  Knight. 
The  explanation  of  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  account  which  fol 
lows.  It  will  be  remembered  that  as  the  army  was  formed  in 
line  of  march  in  the  deep  darkness  of  the  grove  near  Sandusky, 
at  nine  o'clock  of  the  evening  of  June  the  5th,  waiting  for  the 
word  of  command  to  commence  their  perilous  retreat,  a  furious 
assault  was  made  by  the  enemy.  This  precipitated  matters. 
The  volunteers,  without  waiting  for  command,  broke  ranks  and 
galloped  away  in  the  greatest  confusion. 

At  the  moment  of  flight  Colonel  Crawford  missed  his  son, 
John  Crawford,  his  son-in-law,  William  Harrison,  and  his 
nephew,  William  Crawford.  Alarmed  at  their  absence,  he  com 
menced  to  search  for  them  in  the  darkness,  and  shouted  aloud 
their  names.  He  ran  hither  and  thither  among  the  trees  in 
frantic  endeavor  to  find  the  missing  men.  At  this  moment  Doc 
tor  Knight  came  up,  and  declared  that  the  young  men  must  be 
ahead  of  them,  as  the  grove  was  then  nearly  deserted.  Craw 
ford  answered  that  he  was  positive  they  were  not  in  front,  and 
begged  Knight  not  to  leave  him.  The  doctor  promised  him  he 
would  not,  and  joined  in  the  anxious  search. 

By  this  time  the  grove  was  rapidly  filling  up  with  the 
enemy.  Knight  and  Crawford  were  now  joined  by  an  old 
man  and  a  lad,  both  on  horseback.  The  four  endeavored  to 
make  their  escape,  in  their  course  overtaking  the  volunteers 
who  were  entangled  in  the  cranberry  marsh.  They  traveled 
fifteen  or  twenty  yards  apart,  guiding  themselves  by  the  north 
star.  The  old  man  frequently  lagged  behind,  and  never  failed 
when  he  did  so  to  call  out  for  the  others  to  wait.  While  cross 
ing  a  stream  the  old  man  made  his  usual  halloo  from  the  rear. 
He  was  about  to  be  reprimanded  for  the  act,  when  an  Indian 
yell  was  heard  not  far  from  him.  After  that  the  old  man  was 
not  heard  to  call  again,  and  no  more  was  seen  of  him. 


584  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

At  sunrise,  Crawford  and  his  companions,  whose  progress 
had  been  slow  and  circuitous,  found  themselves  only  eight  miles 
from  the  battle-field.  The  horses  of  Crawford  and  the  young 
man  already  jaded,  now  gave  out,  and  had  to  be  abandoned.  At 
two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  travelers  fell  in  with  Captain 
Biggs,  who  had  carried  Lieutenant  Ashley  from  the  field  of 
action  dangerously  wounded. 

On  the  next  morning,  journeying  through  what  is  now  Craw 
ford  county,  they  found  a  deer  which  was  freshly  killed.  The 
meat  was  joyously  cut  up,  and  bound  in  *packs  for  transporta 
tion.  A  mile  farther  on  they  were  startled  by  the  smoke  of  a 
camp-fire.  Leaving  the  wounded  man  with  the  lad,  the  others 
cautiously  approached  the  fire.  No  one  was  found  near  it. 
While  roasting  their  venison  one  of  the  volunteers  came  up. 
He  was  the  man  who  had  killed  the  deer.  Hearing  the  others 
approach,  he  mistook  them  for  Indians,  and  ran  off.  From  that 
time  he  also  was  a  member  of  the  little  company  with  Crawford. 

In  their  journey,  somewhat  against  the  judgment  of  Knight 
and  Biggs,  they  followed  the  trail  of  the  army.  Crawford  and 
the  doctor,  who  had  loaned  his  horse  to  Ashley,  proceeded  on 
foot  about  two  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  the  others.  Biggs 
and  the  wounded  officer  were  placed  in  the  center  on  horses,  and 
the  two  young  men  followed  on  foot.  While  advancing  along 
the  south  bank  of  the  Sandusky,  at  a  point  just  east  of  the  pres 
ent  town  of  Leesville,  three  Indians  started  up  within  twenty 
steps  from  Knight  and  Crawford.  Knight  sprang  behind  a  tree 
and  was  about  tojjre.  Crawford  shouted  to  him  not  to  do  so. 

While  hesitating,  one  of  the  Indians,  a  Delaware,  who  had 
often  seen  Knight,  ran  up  and  took  him  by  the  hand,  calling 
him  "doctor."  Biggs  fired  on  seeing  the  Indians,  but  missed 
his  aim.  "  They  then  told  us  to  call  these  people,"  says  Knight, 
"  and  make  them  come  there,  else  they  would  go  and ,  kill 
them ; "  which  the  colonel  did,  but  the  four  got  off,  and  escaped 
for  that  time. 

Crawford  and  Knight  were  at  once  led  captive  to  the  camp 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  585 

of  the  Delawares.  This  was  on  Friday  afternoon.  On  Sunday 
evening,  five  Indians  came  into  camp.  They  carried  in  their 
hands  two  small  and  bloody  objects.  It  was  dusk.  This  made 
it  difficult  to  discern  what  they  were.  Crawford  stooped  and 
looked  closely.  Turning,  deathly  sick,  to  Dr.  Knight,  he  said, 
"  They  are  the  scalps  of  Captain  Biggs  and  Lieutenant  Ashley." 

Besides  Crawford  and  Knight,  there  were  other  prisoners  in 
the  camp.  Altogether  there  were  eleven.  The  Indians  soon 
discovered,  to  their  joy,  that  Crawford  was  the  commander  of 
the  American  army — the  "  Big  Captain."  This  information  was 
immediately  carried  to  Captain  Pipe. 

The  startling  and  important  news  at  once  became  the  occca- 
sion  for  a  grave  council  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Delaware  nation. 
All  other  captives  might  be  easily  disposed  of  by  the  braves  in 
any  village.  Not  so  with  the  American  "  chief."  For  him 
there  must  be  devised  no  common  fate.  Captain  Pipe  presided 
over  the  assembly  which  discussed  the  grave  question.  There 
was  complete  unanimity  of  opinion.  From  the  great  and  terri- 
rible  chief,  who,  in  years  gone  by  had  been  the  greatest  rival 
of  the  noble  White  Eyes,  who,  on  the  latter's  death,  became  the 
most  prominent  man  of  all  the  Delawares,  and  who,  by  his  sol 
itary  prestige  and  influence,  had  won  his  people  from  a  policy 
of  neutrality,  and  made  them  of  all  the  Indian  allies  of  the 
British  the  bitterest  and  the  bloodiest,  down  to  the  youngest 
brave,  who,  by  the  taking  of  some  scalp  in  the  recent  battles, 
had  earned  a  warrior's  privilege  of  admission  to  the  council-hall — 
every  voice  pronounced  in  favor  of  DEATH  B^FIRE. 

The  Delawares,  however,  were  subject  to  th^  sway  of  the 
Wyandots.  Among  the  latter  the  burning  of  prisoners  was  no 
longer  practiced ;  nor  did  the  Delawares  dare  to  inflict  the  death 
penalty  in  that  manner  upon  so  great  a  captive,  without  first 
obtaining  permission  from  the  Half  King  of  the  Wyandots. 
How  could  his  consent  be  obtained  ?  This  was  the  question 
which  agitated  the  council.  At  last  the  oldest  and  wisest  chiefs 
devised  a  stratagem.  A  runner,  bearing  a  belt  of  wampum,  was 


586  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

despatched  to  the  Half  King  of  the  Wyandots,  with  the  follow 
ing  message  :  "  Uncle  !  We,  your  nephews,  salute  you  in  a  spirit 
of  kindness,  love,  and  respect.  Uncle  !  We  have  a  project  in 
view  which  we  ardently  wish  to  accomplish,  vand  can  accom 
plish,  if  our  uncle  will  not  overrule  us !  By  returning  the 
wampum,  we  will  have  your  pledged  word!" 

The  Half  King  was  puzzled.  He  questioned  the  messenger, 
but  the  latter,  carefully  trained,  professed  ignorance.  At  last 
the  Half  King,  supposing  the  project  to  be  some  secret  foray 
against  the  white  settlements,  returned  the  wampum  to  the 
bearer,  with  the  word,  "  Say  to  my  nephews,  they  have  my 
pledge."  Crawford's  doom  was  fixed. 

On  Monday  morning,  the  10th  of  June,  the  prisoners  were 
informed  that  they  must  go  to  Sandusky.  Crawford,  learning 
that  Simon  Girty  who,  as  will  be  remembered,  was  an  old 
friend,  was  at  Sandusky,  urged  strongly  to  be  taken  to  that 
place  at  once.  While  the  other  prisoners  halted  for  the  night 
at  the  deserted  Wyandot  town,  Crawford,  under  two  guards, 
was  taken  to  Sandusky,  arriving  there  in  the  night.  He 
demanded  to  be  at  once  taken  to  Girty's  lodge.  Here,  sitting 
in  the  dim  light  of  a  smoldering  camp-fire,  he  made  his  appeal, 
long  and  earnest,  to  the  renegade,  to  save  him.  He  offered 
Girty  one  thousand  dollars  to  save  his  life. 

The  ruffian  moodily  stirred  the  ashes,  and  said  nothing.  At 
last,  being  urged  by  Crawford  for  an  answer,  he  turned,  and 
with  a  look ,  which,  to  any  other  than  a  despairing  man  would 
have  told  that  he  was  lying,  promised,  in  a  cold,  indifferent  tone, 
to  do  what  was  asked.  He  also  told  the  colonel  that  William 
Harrison  and  young  William  Crawford  had  been  captured  by 
the  Shawanese,  but  pardoned.  The  falsity  of  this  statement  we 
already  know  from  what  Slover  had  witnessed. 

Knight  and  his  nine  companions,  on  the  morning  of  the 
llth,  were  met  by  Captain  Pipe  at  the  old  Wyandot  town.  The 
latter,  with  his  own  hands,  proceeded  to  paint  the  faces  of  all  the 
prisoners  black.  While  thus  engaged,  he  told  Knight  in  very 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRA  WFORD.  587 

good  English,  that  he  was  to  be  taken  to  the  Shawariese  towns 
to  see  his  friends.  The  ominous  import  of  these  smooth  words 
was  at  once  read  by  Knight.  During  the  morning  Colonel 
Crawford  was  also  brought  to  this  place.  Pipe,  who  had  not 
seen  him  the  night  before,  with  whom  he  was  well  acquainted, 
received  him  with  pretended  kindness,  joked  about  his  making  a 
good  Indian,  but  nevertheless  painted  him  black. 

The  whole  party  now  started  toward  the  Wyandot  town. 
Crawford  and  Knight  were  kept  somewhat  in  the  rear.  Pres 
ently  a  savage  shouted  back  some  unintelligible  words.  Their 
guards  hurried  them  forward.  They  now  understood  what  the 
maneuver  meant.  Lying  by  the  roadside  were  the  corpses,  pale 
and  gory,  of  four  of  their  companions.  They  had  been  scalped 
and  tomahawked. 

The  suspicion  of  Knight  was  confirmed  as  to  their  real  des 
tination,  when,  instead  of  proceeding  to  the  Wyandot  village, 
their  guards  struck  into  another  trail  leading  to  the  north-west. 
Coming  to  a  small  creek,  Crawford  and  Knight  were  removed 
to  a  little  distance,  while  the  others  were  seated  around  the  foot 
of  the  tree.  At  the  place  where  they  halted  they  had  found  a 
number  of  squaws  and  Indian  boys.  In  a  moment  Crawford  and 
Knight  were  horrified  to  see  these  fall  upon  the  five  prisoners 
and  tomahawk  them  all.  A  squaw  cut  off  the  head  of  one  man 
and  kicked  it  around  in  great  glee  as  a  football. 

Saddened  at  this  awful  scene,  and  wrapped  in  the  blackest 
gloom  concerning  their  own  fate,  the  two  prisoners,  now  left 
alone,  resumed  their  march.  On  their  way  they  met  Simon 
Grirty,  but  he  had  no  word  of  kindness.  Waiting  until  Knight 
came  up,  the  latter  went  toward  him  reaching  out  his  hand,  but 
the  ruffian  bade  him  be  gone,  calling  him  a  "damned  rascal." 
Three  quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  village  of  Tymochtee  another 
halt  was  made.  The  reason  of  this  and  the  awful  occurrences 
which  transpired  will  appear  when  we  return  to  the  story  of 
the  unfortunate  Crawford.  For  the  present  we  proceed  to  relate 
the  incidents  which  afterwards  befell  Knight,  "who  for  over  two 


588  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES, 

hours  before  leaving  the  place  drank  to  the  dregs,  it  may  be 
premised,  a  cup  of  inexpressible  horror." 

After  nightfall  Knight  was  taken  on  to  Tymochtee,  where 
he  lay  bound  all  night.  The  next  morning  he  was  placed  in 
charge  of  an  Indian  named  Tutelu,  who  at  once  started  with 
him  for  the  Shawanese  towns,  forty  miles  away.  The  prisoner 
was  on  foot.  Behind  him  strode  his  savage  guard,  wielding  an 
enormous  lash,  with  which  he  urged  the  prisoner  forward. 
Knight,  pretending  to  think  that  he  was  to  become  an  Indian, 
asked  Tutelu  if  they  were  not  to  live  together  as  brothers, 
in  one  house,  when  they  reached  the  town.  The  Indian, 
human  as  he  was,  was  touched  by  the  flattery,  and  answered 
"Yes."  At  night  the  captive  was  bound  and  laid  down  to 
rest,  but  the  vigilant  guard  closed  not  his  eyes.  At  daybreak 
he  untied  his  captive. 

Tutelu  rose  and  began  to  replenish  the  fire.  A  swarm  of 
mosquitoes  was  bothering  them,  and  Knight  asked  the  savage  if 
he  should  make  a  smoke  behind  him.  He  answered  "Yes." 
The  doctor  stooped  and  picked  up  the  end  of  a  small  stick 
which  had  been  burnt  till  it  was  but  eighteen  inches  long.  For 
the  purpose  which,  he  contemplated  it  was  altogether  too  small. 
Yet  it  was  the  best  to  be  had.  He  then  took  up  another  little 
stick,  taking  a  coal  between  them,  and  went  behind  the  Indian. 
Instantly  dropping  the  coal,  he  struck  the  savage  on  the  head 
with  all  his  force,  so  that  he  fell  forward  with  both  his  hands 
in  the  fire.  The  Indian  scrambled  to  his  feet,  badly  burned, 
and  ran  off,  howling  in  the  most  fearful  manner.  Knight  fol 
lowed  at  the  top  of  his  speed  to  shoot  him,  but  in  drawing  back 
the  hammer  of  the  Indian's  gun,  he  broke  the  mainspring,  and 
was  forced  to  abandon  the  chase. 

Tutelu  never  stopped  running,  it  is  presumed,  till  he  reached 
the  Shawanese  towns.  He  arrived  there,  finding  Slover,  who 
was  then  still  a  captive.  The 'Indian  had  a  wound  four  inches 
long  in  his  head.  He  also  had  another  thing  in  his  head.  It 
was  a  story.  With  pompous  manner  and  swelling  words  he 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  589 

related  that  his  prisoner,  the  doctor,  was  a  big,  strong,  tall  man, 
that,  being  promised  by  Knight  that  he  would  not  go  away,  he 
had  untied  him. 

According  to  Tutelu,  while  he  was  kindling  the  fire,  the  doc 
tor  had  snatched  up  the  gun  behind  him  and  struck  him ;  Tutelu 
had  made  a  slash  at  Knight  with  his  knife,  cutting  off  his 
fingers  and  inflicting  two  stabs.  As  soon  as  his  relation  was 
over,  Slover  stepped  into  the  group  and  told  the  Delawares  that 
Tutelu  had  lied,  that  he  knew  the  doctor,  and  he  was  a  weak, 
little  man.  The  Indians  laughed  heartily,  and  told  Tutelu  that 
they  believed  his  whole  story  was  false. 

After  abandoning  his  chase,  Knight  returned  to  the  fire. 
He  equipped  himself  for  a  journey  home  with  the  blanket,  moc 
casins,  gun,  and  ammunition  of  the  Indian.  He  was  not  far 
from  the  spot  now  occupied  by  Kenton,  Hardin  county,  Ohio. 
In  his  journey  the  only  food  he  could  find  was  green  gooseber 
ries.  These,  however,  he  was  unable  to  eat  on  account  of  a 
wound  in  his  jaw,  which  had  been  inflicted  by  an  Indian  out 
of  pure  malice.  He  tried  every  way  possible  to  fix  his  gun,  but 
failing,  finally  threw  it  away.  His  medical  knowledge  proved  of 
some  value  to  him.  After  his  jaw  got  better,  and  he  began  to 
eat  gooseberries,  mandrakes,  raw  black  birds,  and  terrapin,  these 
delicacies  gave  him  dyspepsia.  Unlike  most  of  the  borderers, 
he  was  a  delicate  man,  unused  to  hardships.  To  cure  the 
trouble  spoken  of,  he  would  gather  and  eat  a  little  wild  ginger. 
On  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  July  he  reached  Fort  Pitt. 

Sadly  let  us  turn  back  to  the  scene  where  Crawford  was 
halted  on  the  afternoon  of  the  llth  of  June,  three-quarters  of 
a  mile  from  Tymochtee.  When  he  arrived  he  found  a  large 
fire  burning.  As  it  was  a  hot  summer  day  his  suspicions  were 
at  once  aroused.  A  hundred  Indians  were  lying  about  on  the 
ground.  The  picture,  if  transferred  to  canvas,  would  be  one  of 
utter  inactivity  and  laziness. 

As  the  approaching  party  suddenly  appeared  in  sight,  an 
electric  shock  would  not  have  more  quickly  and  completely 


590  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

transformed  the  scene  of  idleness  to  One  of  intense  activity  and 
animation.  A  dozen  warriors  ran  forward  and  seized  Crawford. 
They  tore  his  clothes  from  him  with  eager  hands.  He  was 
made  to  sit  down  on  the  ground.  Surrounded  by  a  howling 
mob,  he  at  once  became  the  object  of  showers  of  dirt,  stones, 
and  sticks.  While  some  were  engaged  in  this  sport,  others 
quickly  fixed  in  the  ground  a  large  stake,  some  fifteen  feet 
long,  which  had  been  previously  prepared.  Others  still  ran 
quickly  to  and  fro,  piling  up  around  the  stake  great  heaps  of 
light,  dry  hickory  wood,  which  had  also  been  split  and  prepared 
for  the  occasion.  The  wood  was  arranged  loosely,  with  large 
apertures,  through  which  the  draft  might  more  quickly  carry 
the  sputtering  blaze. 

Crawford  had  taken  in  the  entire  scene  at  a  glance.  He 
called  to  Girty,  who  was  in  the  crowd,  and  asked  if  he  was  to 
be  burnt.  The  brute,  who  had  -not  made  the  least  exertion  to 
save  his  old  friend,  yelled  back,  "of  course."  The  wretched 
man  was  seized  and  his  hands  bound  behind  him.  A  rope  was 
fastened  to  the  stake,  and  the  other  end  passed  around  his  body. 
It  was  long  enough  to  permit  him  to  walk  around  the  stake 
several  times. 

It  was  four  o'clock.  The  afternoon  sun  was  already  casting 
somber  shades  through  the  forest.  O.ver  head  patches  of  the 
azure  sky,  as  calm  and  peaceful  as  eternity,  could  be  seen  by 
the  doomed  man.  From  the  top  of  a  lofty  tree  a  little  bird 
caroled  forth  its  woodland  song,  happy,  innocent,  and  free.  But 
in  the  dark  assemblage  beneath  the  trees  every  malignant  coun 
tenance  was  lit  up  by  the  wild  insanity,  the  everlasting  unrest, 
of  sin,  of  wickedness,  of  hell. 

Willing  hands  applied  a.  torch  to  the  heaps  of  wood.  The 
crackling  flames  leaped  quickly  through  the  open  spaces.  As 
the  wood  began  to  kindle,  Captain  Pipe  arose,  and  addressed  the 
crowd  briefly,  but  earnestly,  in  his  own  dark  language,  making 
all  the  while  the  most  terrible  gestures  at  the  heroic  man,  who 
stood  calmly  at  the  stake  confronting  his  doom.  As  the  speaker 


THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  591 

finished,  an  unearthly  yell  burst  from  the  hoarse  throats  of  his 
auditors.  Heedless  of  the  small  flames  which  were  already 
shooting  upward  through  the  wood,  they  leaped  within  the  cir 
cle,  and  fell  upon  the  unfortunate  Crawford. 

A  hundred  yards  away  stood  Doctor  Knight,  an  unwilling 
spectator,  filled  with  an  anguish  which  it  is  impossible  to  con 
ceive.  The  throng  about  Crawford  was  so  dense  for  the  time 
being  that  his  friend  could  not  tell  what  was  being  done.  He 
could  only  see  uplifted  hands  rising  and  falling  above  the  heads 
of  the  crowd,  and  hear  its  angry  roar.  In  a  moment  the  throng 
fell  back.  Knight  could  then  see  that  they  had  cut  off  Craw 
ford's  ears,  and  beaten  him  black  and  blue. 

Though  compelled  by  the  circle  of  flames  which  now  leaped 
up  and  walled  in  the  unfortunate  man,  to  remain  at  a  little  dis 
tance,  the  tormentors  were  by  no  means  through.  Warriors 
shot  burning  blasts  of  powder  into  his  quivering  flesh.  Indian 
boys  snatched  blazing  hickory  poles,  and  held  them  against  his 
body.  As,  wild  with  pain,  he  ran  around  and  around  the  stake, 
to  avoid  one  party  of  tormentors,  he  was  confronted  at  every 
point  by  others,  with  burning  fagots  and  redhot  irons.  The 
squaws  threw  quantities  of  burning  coals  against  him,  which, 
falling  on  the  ground  at  his  feet,  left  him  a  path  of  fire 
to  tread. 

In  the  extremity  of  his  agony,  a  scream  from  the  maddened 
man  rang  out  through  the  forest,  "  Girty !  Girty !  shoot  me 
through  the  heart !  Quick ! !  For  God's  sake,  do  not  refuse 
me  !"  And  it  is  on  record  that  to  this  appeal  the  monster  made 
answer  with  a  laugh.  Crawford  turned  then  in  his  supplica 
tions  from  man  to  God.  Leaning  against  the  stake,  enduring 
all  the  torments  which  malice  could  invent,  with  manly  fortitude 
and  heroic  calmness,  in  low,  earnest  tones  he  poured  out  his 
supplications  to  the  Almighty. 

How  long  the  awful  scene  continued,  we  do  not  know.  Dr. 
Knight  says  two  hours.  But  this  is,  probably,  much  too  long. 
That  the  time  should  ,.have  seemed  to  him  almost  endless,  is 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

not  surprising.  At  last  nature  seemed  to  be  able  to  endure  no 
more.  Crawford  fainted,  and  fell  on  his  stomach.  An  old  hag, 
with  the  countenance  of  a  devil,  threw  a  quantity  of  coals 
and  ashes  on  the  back  of  the  prostrate  man.  With  a  deep 
groan,  he  again  arose,  probably  in  a  delirium,  and  began  to  walk 
slowly  around  the  stake.  He  was  as  black  as  coal  from  head 
to  foot,  save  where  the  burnt  flesh  had  broken  off,  from  which 
spots  ran  reddened  rivulets. 

The  end  came  at  last.  Tradition  says  that  the  spirit  of  the 
dying  man  took  its  flight  just  as  the  western  sun  threw  its 
setting  beams  across  the  landscape. 

Such  was  THE  DOOM  OF  CRAWFORD.  Far  and  wide  through 
the  settlements  of  the  white  man  spread  a  melancholy  gloom 
as  the  story  passed  from  lip  to  lip.  Heart-rending  was  the 
anguish  in  a  lonely  cabin  upon  the  banks  of  the  Youghiogheny, 
where  the  widow  wept  without  hope. 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  TENNEtiSEEANS. 


593 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  TENNESSEEANS. 

HERE  is  an  egotism  about  nearly  all  Indian 
story-tellers.  The  events  which  these  chimney- 
corner  oracles  relate  are  local,  and  closely  con 
nected  with  themselves  or  their  ancestors.  In 
the  locality  where  they  lived,  the  scenes  of 
violence  and  the  feats  of  heroism  were  une- 
qualed.  This  characteristic  has  passed  from 
the  story-teller  to  the  story-writer.  Books 
of  border  warfare  are  usually  books  of  neighborhood  warfare. 
So  it  comes  that  the  reader  of  two  or  three  of  such  books  imag 
ines  that  the  region  whose  history  they  recount  was  fearfully 
afflicted  by  Indians,  while  other  localities  were  exempt. 

Most  northern  readers  of  Indian  literature  have  the  impression 
that  the  long  warfare  carried  on  in  the  Ohio  valley  and  around 
the  lower  lakes  between  the  white  man  and  the  red  man  consti 
tuted  the  entire  struggle.  They  think  that  the  savages  of  the 
south  were  peaceful,  innocent,  and  happy;  that  every  time  a 
white  man  came  along,  the  savages  gave  him  a  generous  strip 
of  land  and  supplied  him  with  food,  and  as  the  settlers  became 
more  numerous  and  encroached  more  and  more  upon  the  game 
preserves  of  the  lords  of  the  forest,  the  latter  unresistingly 
withdrew  farther  and  farther  to  the  west.  This. notion  is  false. 
The  frontiers  from  the  lakes  to  the  gulf  were  for  nearly  thirty 
years  the  scene  of  the  most  furious  Indian  warfare.  If  any 
thing,  the  savages  of  the  south  were  more  hideous,  more  pas 
sionate,  more  cruel,  and  more  revengeful  than  their  northern 

33 


594  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

cousins.     As  an  illustration   of   this,   we  give  in  the  present 
chapter  a  sketch  of  the  border  warfare  of  Tennessee. 

In  1756  a  British  nobleman  caused  to  be  erected  at  the  head 
of  navigation  on  the  Tennessee  River,  thirty  miles  south-west 
of  the  present  busy  and  beautiful  city  of  Knoxville,  a  stockade 
fort.  It  was  called  Fort  Louden,  named  after  its  founder,  of 
course.  In  that  day  this  post  was,  perhaps,  the  most  exposed 
of  any  on  the  western  frontier.  It  was  deemed  to  be  five  hun 
dred  miles  from  Charleston.  Even  when  the  Indians  were  at 
peace,  it  was  a  matter  of  the  greatest  difficulty  to  transport 
supplies  over  the  lofty  Alleghanies  to  this  lonely  and  isolated 
outpost  of  civilization.  It  was  garrisoned  by  two  hundred 
British  soldiery.  Sometimes  the  men  talked  among  themselves 
of  their  danger  in  case  of  an  Indian  war.  On  such  occasions  the 
bravest  shuddered. 

The  Indian  war  came.  Brands  from  the  conflagration  raging 
in  the  north  fired  the  hearts  of  the  fierce  Cherokees.  In  a  sin 
gle  day  all  communication  between  Fort  Louden  and  the  eastern 
settlements  was  cut  off.  An  expedition  was  organized  in  North 
Carolina  and  Virginia  to  march  against  the  Cherokees.  The 
rangers  attacked  Little  Keowee,  Estatoe,  and  Sugaw  Town, 
burnt  the  wigwams,  and  put  every  warrior  to  the  sword.  In 
the  brief  chronicles  of  the  time,  however,  we  find  that  the 
expedition  was  ambuscaded  soon  after  these  victories,  and 
utterly  routed. 

So  it  came  about  that  the  distant  garrison  of  Fort  Louden 
was  left  to  itself.  Animated  by  a  hope  of  relief,  the  men  sub 
sisted  for  a  month  upon  the  flesh  of  lean  horses  and  dogs,  and 
a  small  supply  of  Indian  beans,  smuggled  into  the  fort  by  some 
kind-hearted  Cherokee  women.  When  the  last  dog  in  the  place 
was  killed  and  eaten,  the  garrison,  inexperienced  in  Indian  war 
fare,  resolved  to  surrender  to  the  Cherokees  on  the  best  terms 
that  could  be  had.  The  terms,  indeed,  were  liberal.  The  sol 
diers  marched  out  with  their  guns  and  ammunition,  under  the 
escort  of  a  band  of  Indian  hunters,  who  were  to  provide  game 


THE  TROUBLE*  OF  THE  TENNESSEEANS.  595 

on  the  homeward  march.  By  the  capitulation  the  white  men 
were  to  withdraw  unmolested. 

On  the  first  night  the  men  were  startled  to  learn  that  every 
one  of  their  Indian  escort  had  left  them.  They  remained 
throughout  the  night  in  great  anxiety.  At  daybreak  one  of 
the  sentinels,  which  had  been  posted,  came  running  in,  his  face 
white  with  fear,  saying  that  he  had  seen  a  vast  number  of 
Indians,  armed  and  painted  in  the  most  dreadful  manner,  creep 
ing  through  the  bushes  toward  the  camp.  The  men,  enfeebled 
by  starvation,  grasped  their  arms  with  unsteady  hands.  At 
that  moment  the  surrounding  woods  burst  into  flame  and  roar. 
Thirty  men  fell  dead.  The  survivors  fled  panic-stricken,  only 
to  be  captured  and  taken  back  to  Fort  Louden. 

Captain  Stuart  was  purchased  by  a  friendly  Indian,  and  taken 
into  the  latter's  family.  A  day  or  two  afterwards  the  Indians  dis 
covered  ten  bags  of  powder,  which  had  been  buried  in  the  fort 
to  prevent  their  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians,  a  discov 
ery  which  almost  cost  Stuart  his  life.  The  Indians  now  resolved 
to  take  the  cannon,  which  they  had  captured,  and  march  against 
Fort  Prince  George.  Ignorant  of  the  management  of  artillery, 
they  informed  Stuart  that  he  must  go  with  them,  and  handle  the 
cannon  for  them.  In  case  he  refused,  the  prisoners  were  to  be 
brought  forth  and  burned,  one  at  a  time,  before  his  eyes,  until 
his  obstinacy  gave  way.  Stuart  wras  alarmed.  He  determined 
to  escape,  an  undertaking  in  which  he  succeeded  through  the 
connivance  of  his  friend,  Attakullakulla.  Making  his  way  to 
the  white  settlements,  he  at  once  compelled  the  government  to 
ransom  such  of  the  unhappy  prisoners  as  still  survived.  A 
few  months  afterwards,  a  second  army  was  sent  against  the 
Cherokees,  forcing  them  after  a  terrible  battle  to  sue  for  and 
obtain  peace. 

By  1776  north-eastern  Tennessee  was  studded  with  many 
settlements.  There  were  grist  mills,  cleared  fields,  clusters  of 
cabins,  and  blacksmith's  shops  at  many  eligible  points.  The 
beauty  of  the  scenery,  the  delightful  climate,  and  the  fertile 


596  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

soil  had  attracted  many  adventurous  spirits.  On  these  happy 
communities  burst  the  news  of  a  Cherokee  invasion.  Nancy 
Ward,  the  wife  of  a  Cherokee  chief,  sent  warnings  to  the  set 
tlers  of  the  intrigues  of  British  agents  among  her  people. 

The  warning  given  by  the  kind-hearted  squaw  proved  true. 
Such  preparations  for  defense  as  were  possible  were  hastily 
made.  One  band  of  warriors  fell  upon  the  settlements  near 
Long  Island.  They  were  met  by  a  force  of  pioneers,  who, 
instead  of  waiting  in  the  fort,  had  determined  to  attack  the 
Indians  and  save  the  settlements.  The  battle  took  place  at 
sunset.  The  white  men  were  victorious.  More  than  forty 
Indians  were  killed  during  the  ten  minutes  which  the  engage 
ment  occupied. 

In  the  midst  of  the  struggle  Lieutenant  Moore  shot  a  big 
Cherokee  chief  in  the  knee.  Moore  sprang  on  him  with  a  drawn 
knife,  which  the  Indian  caught  by  the  blade.  A  desperate  strug 
gle  followed.  The  combatants  rolled  over  and  over,  each  cling 
ing  to  the  knife  with  one  hand,  and  seeking  with  the  other  to 
inflict  some  mortal  wound  on  his  antagonist.  The  Indian's  hand 
was  cut  to  the  bone  by  the  knife  blade.  Yet  still  he  held  on. 
Moore  finally  succeeded  in  getting  his  tomahawk  loose  from  his 
belt,  and  with  a  quick  circle  in  the  air  killed  his  enemy. 

Another  division  of  the  Cherokees  stole  toward  the  settle 
ments  on  the  Wollichucky  River.  The  settlers  at  Gillespie  Sta 
tion  fled  before  the  invaders  to  Watauga.  The  Indians,  coming 
upon  the  freshly  deserted  settlement,  paused  not  to  destroy  the 
corn,  stock,  and  improvements,  but  hurried  on  in  hot  pursuit  of 
the  flying  white  men.  Scarcely  were  the  latter  safely  sheltered 
behind  the  palisade,  when  the  pursuers  dashed  up  and  assaulted 
the  fort  at  Watauga.  The  assault  on  the  fort  was  unsuccessful, 
but  some  stragglers  without  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians. 
A  Mrs.  Bean  was  captured,  taken  back  to  the  Indian  towns, 
and  condemned  to  death.  She.  was  tied,  taken  to  the  top  of  a 
mound,  and  was  about  to  be  burned,  when  Nancy  Ward  inter 
fered,  and  saved  her  life. 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  TENNESSEEANS.  597 

James  Cooper  and  Samuel  Moore  were  out  making  clap 
boards,  when  they  were  attacked  by  the  Indians.  Cooper 
leaped  into  the  river,  hoping  to  dive  and  escape.  The  water  was 
too  shallow,  and  he  was  killed.  Twenty  feet  further  down,  the 
river  was  deeper.  Had  he  run  to  that  spot,  he  might  have 
escaped.  Moore  was  carried  away  by  the  Indians,  and  burned 
to  death. 

After  the  withdrawal  of  the  Indians,  a  corpse  was  found  in 
a  thicket  near  the  fort.  The  man  had  been  flying  for  refuge, 
and  in  two  minutes  more  would  have  reached  the  gate. 

The  settlers  of  the  south  were  terrible  fighters.  One  army 
of  two  thousand  men  marched  against  the  southern  towns  of 
the  Cherokees,  burning  thirty  or  forty  villages.  At  the  same 
time,  another  force  of  eighteen  hundred  men  fell  upon  the  over- 
hill  towns.  This  force  was  confronted  by  three  thousand  war 
riors.  At  night  the  white  men  built  enormous  camp-fires,  and 
erected  lodges,  as  if  to  encamp  for  several  days.  In  the  dark 
ness  a  strong  detachment  was  sent  down  the  river  with  instruc 
tions  to  cross  and  fall  upon  the  flank  of  the  enemy.  The  Indians 
were  assembled  on  Big  Island,  in  French  Broad  River.  That 
night  they  fled.  The  maneuvering  of  the  whites  had  been  dis 
covered.  The  invading  army  advanced  into  the  heart  of  the 
Indian  country  unopposed  by  a  single  warrior. 

In  the  center  of  each  of  the  Indian  towns  which  fell  into 
their  hands,  the  whites  were  astonished  to  find  a  circular  tower 
thirty  feet  in  diameter  and  twenty  feet  high,  built  of  cane,  and 
covered  with  dirt.  Within  were  rude  couches,  arranged  around 
the  wall.  This  was  the  council-house,  and  on  these  couches 
the  chieftains  of  the  south,  more  fond  of  luxury  than  those  of 
a  colder  clime,  reclined  at  ease  during  their  deliberations,  fn 
one  of  these  structures  were  arranged  the  terms  of  peace. 

While  these  events  were  happening  east  of  the  Cumberland 
Mountains,  there  were  as  yet  west  of  the  mountains  no  perma 
nent  settlements.  Now  and  then  a  few  bold  explorers  from 
Kentucky  pushed  their  way  down  into  the  wilderness,  but  few 


598  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

had  the  courage  to  remain.  One  settlement  was  formed  near 
Bledsoe's  Lick,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Chickasaw  Nation. 

In  1778  two  hunters.  Spencer  and  Holliday,  came  from  Ken 
tucky  into  this  region.  Spencer  found  a  hollow  tree,  and  an 
nounced  his  intention  of  living  in  it.  In  vain  Holliday  endea 
vored  to  persuade  him  to  return  to  Kentucky.  The  man  was 
fascinated  with  the  notion  of  living  in  a  tree.  No  argument 
nor  entreaty  could  move  him.  With  true  southern  generosity 
he  accompanied  his  companion  a  part  of  the  way  home.  Holli 
day  had  lost  his  knife.  Spencer  at  parting  broke  the  blade  of 
his  own  in  two,  and  gave  his  comrade  half.  Spencer  then  re 
turned  to  his  hollow  tree. 

Not  a  great  distance  off  another  white  man  had  erected  a 
temporary  cabin.  Neither  the  owner  of  the  cabin  nor  the  occu 
pant  of  the  tree  knew  of  the  other's  proximity.  One  morning 
Spencer  happened  to  pass  near  by,  leaving  the  print  of  his  enor 
mous  foot  in  the  rich  soil.  Soon  afterward  the  strange  hunter 
discovered  these  tracks.  The  alarm  of  Robinson  Crusoe  at  dis 
covering  the  footprints  of  the  cannibals  on  his  lonely  island  was 
not  greater  than  the  'hunter's  fright  at  his  discovery.  He  at 
once  concluded  that  the  track,  which  was  very  large,  had  been 
made  by  some  giant.  Leaving  every  thing  behind  him  but  his 
gun,  the  man  fled  through  the  wilderness,  and  never  stopped 
until  he  reached  the  distant  settlements  on  the  Wabash  River. 
Spencer  continued  his  lonely  life  for  more  than  a  year. 

The  fair  region  which  had  so  fascinated  Spencer  was  not 
destined  to  remain  a  solitude.  From  the  north  and  east  brave 
pioneers  were  making  their  way  amid  incomparable  hardships, 
to  reclaim  this  region  from  the 'grasp  of  barbarism.  The  adven 
tures  of  one  party  of  emigrants  who  set  out  in  boats  from  the 
fort  on  Holston  River,  are  well  worth  mentioning.  There  must 
have  been  of  men,  women,  and  children  some  two  hundred  in 
the  company.  Their  departure  was  made  December  22,  1779. 
Their  course  lay  down  the  Holston  and  Tennessee  rivers. 

One  day  one  of  the  boats  was  wrecked  against  an  island  and 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  TENNESSEEANS.  601 

much  of  the  cargo  lost.  While  the  other  crews  were  attempting 
to  save  the  precious  property,  Reuben  Harrison  went  into  the 
wood  to  look  for  game.  Night  came  and  the  man  did  not 
return.  At  intervals  guns  were  fired,  but  without  result.  On 
the  following  day  the  emigrants  proceeded  on  their  way,  leav 
ing  the  lost  man's  father  and  a  few  others  still  engaged  in  fran 
tic  search.  In  two  or  three  days  they  found  the  man,  almost 
famished.  He  had  lost  his  way. 

The  trials  of  the  emigrants  were  many.  On  the  6th  of 
March,  one  of  the  party  died.  That  night  Mrs.  Ephraim  Pey 
ton  was  delivered  of  a  child.  On  the  following  day  the  fleet 
passed  an  Indian  village.  The  savages  seemed  friendly,  but  on 
leaving  the  place  the  emigrants  were  alarmed  to  find  a  body  of 
Indians  keeping  up  with  them  along  the  shore. 

Here  Mr.  Stewart  was  killed.  He  had  embarked  with  the 
company  on  Holston  River,  but  on  account  of  the  fact  that  his 
family  were  afflicted  with  the  small-pox,  his  boat,  with  twenty- 
eight  persons,  was  kept  a  mile  or  more  to  the  rear  of  the  others. 
At  night,  when  the  encampment  was  made  by  the  main  party, 
a  horn  was  sounded  as  a  signal  to  the  infected  boat  to  stop 
also.  The  Indians,  noticing  the  isolation  of  this  boat,  inter 
cepted  it,  and  killed  or  captured  the  entire  company.  The  cries 
of  the  unfortunate  people  were  distinctly  heard  by  those  in  the 
other  boats.  Yet,  for  fear  of  the  savages,  and  of  the  mofe  ter 
rible  enemy  of  disease,  no  rescue  was  attempted. 

Toward  evening  of  the  same  day,  John  Cotton's  canoe  over 
turned.  The  company,  pitying  his  distress,  landed  in  order  to 
assist  him.  As  they  touched  the  bank  Indians  attacked  them, 
and  the  emigrants  were  driven  off  with  loss.  An  hour  later 
the  boat  of  Jonathan  Jennings  ran  on  a  rock,  "where,"  says 
the  historian  of  the  expedition,  "we  were  compelled  to  leave 
Jennings  and  his  family,  perhaps  to  be  slaughtered  by  their 
merciless  enemies." 

About  four  o'clock  the  next  morning  cries  of  "Help  poor 
Jennings,"  reached  the  ears  of  the  emigrants.  The  man  had 


602  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

followed  them  after  a  terrible  adventure.  No  sooner  had  the 
fleet  disappeared  than  the  Indians  commenced  firing  at  him. 
Jennings  had  ordered  his  people  to  throw  over  the  cargo  and 
try  to  get  the  boat  off  the  rock.  Three  men  of  the  company, 
instead  of  obeying,  had  jumped  overboard  and  made  their  way 
to  land.  The  women  in  the  boat,  left  alone  with  Jennings,  who 
was  a  brave  and  clear-headed  man,  kept  at  the  task  with  des 
perate  exertions.  Mrs.  Jennings  finally  gave  the  boat  a  terrific 
shove,  almost  precipitating  herself  into  the  water,  but  neverthe 
less  getting  it  off  the  rock. 

The  narrator,  at  this  point,  gives  us  a  biography  from  birth 
to  death  of  Mrs.  Peyton's  infant.  He  says :  "  It  is  to  be 
remarked  that  Mrs.  Peyton,  who  was  the  night  before  delivered 
of  an  infant,  which  was  unfortunately  killed  in  the  hurry  and  con 
fusion  incident  to  such  a  disaster,  assisted  Mrs.  Jennings  consider 
ably."  After  many  other  adventures,  the  party  made  their  way 
to  the  Ohio,  and  thence  up  the  Cumberland  River,  where  they 
settled  at  Big  Salt  Lick.  The  trials  of  this  party  were  but 
specimens  of  the  misfortunes  which  befell  many  others,  but  the 
selfishness  with  which  they  refused  to  help  each  other  in  dis 
tress,  it  is  hoped,  was  not  usual. 

During  one  of  the  intervals  of  peace  with  the  Cherokees, 
Colonel  James  Hubbardt  and  a  companion  ventured  to  one  of 
their  towns  on  a  trading  expedition.  Hubbardt's  family  had 
been  butchered  by  Indians  in  Virginia,  and  he  had  become  a 
dangerous  foe  to  every  savage.  In  the  Cherokee  wars  many  an 
Indian's  scalp  had  fallen  into  his  hands.  On  one  occasion  he 
had  had  a  conflict  with  an  Indian  named  Butler.  The  savage, 
terribly  punished,  escaped  alive  to  brood  over  the  injury  and 
meditate  revenge.  Learning  of  Hubbardt's  presence  in  tha 
Indian  country,  Butler  and  a  friend  sought  him  for  the  pur 
pose  of  killing  him.  They  met  on  a  narrow  trail  leading 
through  the  forest. 

To  the  fierce  and  insulting  challenge  of  his  Indian  enemy, 
Hubbardt  replied  with  soft  words,  leaning  his  rifle  against  the 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  TENNESSEEANS.  603 

tree,  and  drawing  forth  a  bottle  of  whisky,  which  he  offered  to 
the  savages.  These  things  the  chieftain  received  with  stony  in 
difference.  His  eye  alone  indicated  emotion.  In  it  blazed  the 
fiercest  fires  of  scorn  and  hate.  Hubbardt  wished  to  avoid  a 
conflict.  The  troubled  pioneers  had  had  little  enough  of  peace. 
A  fight  with  Butler  meant  another  war.  The  white  man  avoided 
taking  up  his  gun.  He  simply  placed  his  hand  upon  the  barrel. 
The  Indian  commenced  to  move  his  horse  from  side  to  side,  and 
quick  as  lightning  raised  his  gun,  and  fired.  The  ball  cut  the 
hair  from  Hubbardt's  head,  but  failed  to  wound.  The  Indians 
at  once  retreated,  but  Hubbardt  shot  his  enemy,  and  killed  him, 
before  he  had  proceeded  a  hundred  feet. 

The  history  of  the  Tennessee  settlements  during  the  decade 
of  1780  to  1790  is  a  tangled  mass  of  murders,  outrages,  sur 
prises,  captivities,  burnings,  and  avenging  expeditions.  It  was 
a  time  which  tried  men's  souls.  Hardly  a  settlement  of  West 
Tennessee  escaped  the  hand  of  the  destroyer.  On  the  2d  of 
April,  1781,  a  desperate  attack  was  made  on  the  fort  at  the 
bluff  on  the  Cumberland  River.  The  garrison  observed  three 
warriors  approaching.  Suddenly  the  trio  halted,  fired  at  the 
fort,  and  took  to  their  heels.  Nineteen  horsemen  at  once  started 
in  pursuit.  The  latter  had  proceeded  some  distance  from  the 
fort,  when  a  lot  of  savages  rose  up  in  a  thicket,  and  fired. 
The  whites  dismounted  for  battle.  Their  horses,  frightened  by 
the  guns,  ran  off.  Several  of  the  men  were  killed  outright, 
while  the  rest  fled  toward  the  fort. 

Meanwhile  a  line  of  Indians  rushed  forward  between  the 
men  and  the  stockade.  But  for  the  greed  of  a  few  savages  not 
a  man  would  have  escaped.  As  the  horses  of  the  whites  gal 
loped  away,  a  number  of  Indians  left  the  line  in  pursuit  of 
them.  Toward  the  gap  thus  made  the  flying  white  men  ran. 
At  this  moment  a  pack  of  hounds  from  the  fort  flew  at  the 
Indians,  and  embarrassed  them  sufficiently  to  prevent  them  from 
filling  up  the  interval  until  several  of  the  whites  had  passed 
through  toward  the  fort. 


604  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

In  the  flight  Isaac  Lucas  fell,  wounded  by  a  rifle  ball.  An 
Indian  ran  forward  to  scalp  him,  but  Lucas,  supporting  himself 
on  one  hand,  fired  and  killed  the  savage.  His  comrades  in  the 
fort  cheered  the  exploit,  and  rushing  forth,  rescued  him. 

Edward  Swanson  in  his  flight  was  pursued  by  a  powerful 
Indian.  The  latter  came  closer  and  closer.  Swanson  could  hear 
his  very  breath.  Suddenly  the  white  man  felt  the  cold  muzzle 
of  a  rifle  on  the  back  of  his  neck,  and  heard  the  click  of  the 
trigger.  The  gun  failed  to  go  off.  Swanson  seized  the  gun 
barrel,  and  with  a  jerk  emptied  the  priming  from  the  pan.  The 
Indian  at  once  clubbed  his  gun,  and  knocked  his  antagonist 
down.  At  this  moment  John  Buchanan  fired,  wounding  the 
Indian,  and  enabling  Swanson  to  escape. 

The  year  1788  was  memorable  for  the  adventure  of  Colonel 
James  Brown,  a  Revolutionary  soldier,  who  was  emigrating  to 
Western  Tennessee,  to  take  possession  of  the  lands  awarded  him 
for  his  military  services.  He  had  with  him  his  wife,  five  sons, 
and  four  daughters,  together  with  some  slaves.  Warned  by  the 
settlers,  who  had  had  a  bitter  experience  of  many  years  of 
unintermittent  warfare  with  the  Indians,  of  the  danger  of  a  pass 
age  through  the  lonely  Cumberland  Gap,  as  well  as  along  the 
Indian-haunted  trail  through  the  mountains,  he  determined  to 
descend  the  Tennessee  River  to  the  Ohio,  thence  by  way  of  the 
Ohio  and  Cumberland  Rivers  to  his  destination. 

He  had  a  boat  built  at  the  settlement  on  the  Holston  River. 
Around  its  sides  were  placed  bulwarks  of  heavy  oak  plank. 
These  were  perforated  with  port-holes.  In  the  stern  of  the  boat 
was  provided  the  additional  defense  of  a  swivel  gun.  Five 
young  men  besides  Brown's  family  joined  the  party.  The  start 
was  made  on  the  4th  of  May.  At  an  Indian  town  three  or  four 
days'  journey  down  the  river,  the  chief  and  a  few  warriors  met 
the  voyagers,  and  appeared  friendly  enough.  Their  friendliness, 
however,  was  but  the  mask  of  treachery. 

That  night  swift  runners  set  out  for  the  lower  towns,  carry 
ing  news  of  the  passage  of  the  vessel  down  the  river,  and  of 


THE  TROUBLES  OF   THE  TENNESSEEANS.  605 

the  exact  strength  of  its  crew.  Two  days  afterwards,  the  voy 
agers  were  disturbed  to  see  four  canoes  coming  up  the  river 
with  ten  Indians  in  each.  They  carried  white  flags.  Colonel 
Brown  ordered  them  to  remain  at  a  distance.  To  this  no  atten 
tion  was  paid.  Brown  at  once  put  his  boat  about,  and  prepared 
to  sink  the  canoes  with  a  shot  from  his  swivel-gun.  At  that 
moment  the  Indians  cried  out  that  it  was  a  time  of  peace,  and 
claimed  protection  under  a  treaty,  that  they  only  wished  to  find 
out  where  the  white  men  were  going,  and  to  trade  with  them. 
Brown  was  inexperienced  in  Indian  fighting.  He  knew  nothing 
of  the  treaty,  but  supposing  that  there  might  be  some  such 
thing,  and  fearful  of  bringing  on  an  Indian  war,  directed  the 
young  men  not  to  fire. 

The  Indians  came  alongside  the  boat.  Presently  seven  or 
eight  more  canoes  came  up.  At  this  re-enforcement,  the  sav 
ages  coolly  began  to  transfer  the  cargo  of  the  boat  to  their  own 
canoes.  Brown  begged  them  not  to  take  his  little  property,  all 
that  remained  to  him  at  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  War. 
Their  spokesman  replied  that  their  chief  was  away,  but  would 
return  that  night,  and  make  the  Indians  give  up  what  they  bad- 
taken,  and  further,  promised  to  furnish  a  pilot  to  take  the  boat 
down  some  dangerous  rapids.  The  voyagers  looked  on  in  utter 
helplessness  while  the  robbery  continued.  Suddenly  a  hideous- 
looking  savage  caught  one  of  the  white  boys  by  the  throat,  and 
was  about  to  kill  him  with  a  sword.  Colonel  Brown  sprang 
forward  to  protect  his  son.  The  Indian  let  go  of  the  child,  but 
struck  at  the  father,  cutting  his  head  nearly  half  off.  Another 
Indian  seized  the  wounded  man,  and  to  the  inexpressible  anguish 
of  his  family,  threw  him  overboard. 

The  Indians  then  took  possession  of  the  boat,  and  headed 
it  toward  the  shore.  They  landed  at  the  town  of  Mckajack. 
The  Indians  got  out,  taking  with  them  the  women  and  children, 
and  ordered  the  young  men  to  take  the  boat  to  a  point  a  little 
farther  down  the  shore.  As  they  started  to  obey,  the  savages 
from  the  shore  fired  at,  and  killed,  every  man  on  board. 


606  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  prisoners  met  different  fates.  Little  Joseph  Brown  was 
taken  by  an  old  white  man  and  his  wife  to  their  home.  The 
old  man  looked  much  like  an  Indian;  there  was  no  external  dif 
ference.  The  boy  had  scarcely  reached  the  house  when  a  very 
large  old  squaw  came  in  in  a  towering  rage.  She  yelled  out 
that  the  boy  ought  to  be  killed,  as  otherwise  he  would  live  to 
guide  an  army  to  the  place.  The  old  Irishman  stood  in  the 
door,  and  informed  the  squaw  that  the  boy  should  not  be  killed. 
At  this  moment  the  squaw's  son  came  up,  and  asked  if  there 
was  a  white  man  in  the  house.  The  old  man  answered,  "  Only 
a  bit  of  a  boy." 

The  white  man  who  had  thus  voluntarily  undertaken  the 
protection  of  young  Brown  was  a  British  deserter,  who  had 
lived  among  the  Cherokees  for  some  years.  Young  Brown  had 
been  captured  by  a  son  of  the  deserter's  wife,  a  French  woman, 
who  had  been  taken  by  the  Indians  when  a  child. 

When  Cufcleotoy  insisted  on  killing  young  Brown,  the  old 
man  answered  that  the  boy  was  his  son's  prisoner.  Incensed 
at  this,  the  Indian,  who  was  a  man  in  authority,  rushed  upon 
the  Irishman  with  uplifted  tomahawk.  The  latter  at  once  cried 
out  that  he  might  have  the  boy.  The  savage  jerked  the  child 
out  of  the  house  into  the  midst  of  a  group  of  Indians,  who  were 
carrying  the  scalps  of  the  boy's  murdered  brothers.  They  took 
the  clothes  off  of  the  little  fellow,  and  he  knelt  down  in  -the  act 
of  prayer,  expecting  each  moment  to  be  struck  dead.  The  old 
French  woman  begged  the  Indians  not  to  kill  him  there,  lest  his 
spirit  should  haunt  the  road  along  which  'she  passed  on  her  way 
to  the  spring. 

A  couple  of  Indians  made  off  with  the  boy,  when  Cutleotoy 
stopped  and  said,  as  the  child  was  the  prisoner  of  poor  Job  (the 
French  woman's  son),  it  was  wrong  to  take  him.  He,  himself, 
had  a  negro  from  the  boat,  and  was  afraid  that  Job  would  come 
ami  kill  his  prisoner. 

That  night  the  chief  of  the  town,  named  The  Breath,  came 
home.  He  was  displeased  at  what  had  been  done.  He  sent 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  TENNESSEEANS.  607 

for  the  captive-boy,  and  told  him  that  his  only  safety  would  be 
for  him  to  be  adopted  into  his  family.  This  was  done,  and  the 
little  gentleman  from  a  northern  city  was  transformed  into  a 
young  savage,  with  a  scalp-lock  and  ear-rings.  The  boy  found 
a  friend  in  a  grandson  of  the  French  woman. 

While  young  Joseph  met  with  these  adventures,  his  two  sis 
ters  were  carried  off  by  some  Creek  Indians,  who  took  part  in 
the  capture.  The  Cherokees  pursued,  recaptured  the  girls,  and 
brought  them  back.  The  children  became  servants  of  the  Indian 
families  in  which  they  lived.  Mrs.  Brown  was  carried  off  by 
another  band  of  Creeks,  driven  on  foot  more  than  two  hundred 
miles,  and  became  a  slave  in  one  of  their  villages.  After  long 
delay  she  escaped,  and  made  her  way  to  the  residence  of 
McGillevray,  the  great  chief  of  the  Creeks,  and  told  him  her 
misfortunes.  The  latter  at  once  generously  ransomed  her  from 
her  captor,  as  also  one  of  the  daughters,  and  the  two  were 
restored  to  their  friends.  In  time,  McGillevray  performed  the 
same  kind  office  for  little  Joseph  Brown.  Of  him  we  will 
hereafter  see  how  the  prophecy  of  the  old  squaw,  that  he  would 
live  to  guide  an  army  against  Mckajack,  was  fulfilled. 

In  1792  and  1793  the  Indian  outrages  came  thick  and  fast. 
Every  settler  passing  along  the  road,  every  planter  at  work  in 
his  cotton-field,  every  ferryman  pushing  his  boat  with  heavy 
oar  through  the  sluggish  current  of  the  river,  was  liable  to  fall 
a  victim  to  some  shaft  of  destruction  from  an  unseen  hand.  If 
we  take  the  annals  of  the  time  for  a  single  fortnight,  and  itemize 
the  outrages  committed  by  Indians,  it  would  read  something 
like  this  : 

January  22,  1793.  John  Pates  killed  and  scalped  by  Indians 
on  Crooked  Creek. 

January  24th.  The  Cherokees  stole  three  of  William  David 
son's  horses. 

January  27th.  A  party  of  Indians  assaulted  the  house  of 
Mr.  Nelson,  near  Knoxville.  Two  of  his  sons,  James  and 
Thomas,  were  killed. 


608  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

February  1st.     Fourteen  horses  stolen  from  Flat  Creek. 

February  3d.     Two  young  men  named  Clements  killed. 

February  5th.  William  Massey  and  Adam  Green  ambus 
caded  and  killed  at  the  gap  of  Powell's  Mountain. 

February  7th.  A  party  of  Indians  burned  the  house  of 
Gallaher. 

February  9th.  Great  alarm  on  the  frontier.  Two  hundred 
white  men,  women,  and  children  crowded  together  in  great  dis 
comfort  at  Craig's  Stockade. 

And  so  we  might  go  on  with  the  red  record,  week  after  week, 
and  month  after  month. 

Andrew  Creswell  was  a  settler,  living  in  the  neighborhood 
of  McGaughey's  station.  He  had  with  him  his  family  and  two 
other  men.  One  day  William  Cunningham,  walking  along  a 
winding  road  through  the  forest,  heard  a  shot,  felt  a  sharp  pain 
in  his  right  arm,  and  saw  behind  a  neighboring  tree  the  figure 
of  a  lurking  Indian.  Cunningham  ran  with  all  haste  to  Cres- 
well's  house.  He  clutched  the  door-knob,  pushed  his  way  in, 
and  fell  breathless  on  the  floor.  Every  inmate  of  the  cabin 
knew  at  once  what  it  meant.  Doors  and  windows  were  barri 
caded.  They  waited,  but  no  foe  appeared.  An  agitated  con 
ference  was  held  as  to  whether  they  should  abandon  the  cabin 
and  seek  refuge  at  McGaughey's  station  or  not.  Mrs.  Creswell 
spoke.  She  said,  "I  would  rather  die  than  go  to  liver  in  the 
filth  and  confinement  of  the  stockade." 

66  Then,"  said  Creswell,  "  I  will  defend  this  house  until  it  is 
burned  over  my  head."  Every  preparation  was  made  for  defense. 
From  the  barn-door  a  long  lever  reaching  into  the  house  under 
neath  the  ground,  was  arranged  so  that  it  could  not  be  opened 
except  from  inside  the  house.  With  this  and  other  arrange 
ments  Creswell  calmly  awaited  the  foe.  Whether  they  ever  came 
or  not  we  do  not  know.  Such  was  the  courage  of  the  settlers. 

Exasperated  by  these  and  similar  outrages,  the  settlers  took 
such  retaliatory  measures  as  were  possible.  Volunteer  expedi 
tions  went  out  every  season  to  attack  the  Indians.  Toward 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  TENNESSEEANS.  609 

the  latter  part  of  December  1793,  breathless  scouts  reported 
that  one  thousand  mounted  Indians  were  marching  against 
Knoxville. 

Two  or  three  accidents  caused  them  to  abandon  their  pur 
pose.  First,  there  was  a  quarrel  between  some  of  the  leaders 
as  to  their  rank.  Again,  there  was  a  bitter  schism  in  the  camp 
growing  out  of  the  question  of  whether  all  the  inhabitants  of 
Knoxville  should  be  massacred  or  only  the  men.  Besides  these 
things  the  Indians,  passing  by  a  small  fort  just  as  the  sunrise 
gun  was  fired,  imagined  that  their  secret  advance  was  discov 
ered.  They  halted.  In  sight  was  a  house  occupied  by  Alex 
ander  Cavet,  his  household  numbering  thirteen  women  and  chil 
dren,  and  three  men. 

Upon  this  little  place  the  Indians  determined  to  wreak 
revenge  for  their  disappointment.  As  a  troop  of  yelling  sav 
ages  ran  toward  the  house  its  defenders  fired,  killing  two  and 
wounding  three  of  the  assailants.  After  a.  moment's  hesitation 
a  half-breed,  who  spoke  English,  called  aloud  to  the  garrison  for 
a  surrender,  and  promising  that  their  lives  should  be  spared. 
The  house  was  at  once  surrendered.  The  unhappy  and  fearful 
family  marched  out  of  the  door.  They  had  scarcely  looked 
around  when  a  band  of  Indians,  led  by  Double  Head,  fell  upon 
them,  and  slaughtered  all  but  one  boy,  who  was  carried  into  cap 
tivity.  It  had  been  better  that  he  should  have  died  with  his 
brothers  and  sisters  than  have  survived  for  his  ultimate  fate. 
The  whole  place  was  then  given  over  to  the  flames.  The  firing 
was  heard  at  Knoxville,  and  the  whole  town  was  thrown  into 
a  panic.  In  fact,  however,  no  attack  was  made. 

This  invasion  led  to  a  counter  invasion  on  the  part  of  the 
whites.  An  expedition  of  seven  hundred  mounted  men  set  out 
against  the  Indian  towns.  Estinaula  was  found  deserted.  The 
huts  were  destroyed,  and  a  camp  pitched  in  the  vicinity. 

That  night  the  sentinels  heard  a  peculiar  rustling  of  the 
high  sedge  grass.  At  first  they  thought  it  was  but  the  autum 
nal  wind.  In  a  few  moments  the  sound  became  clearer,  and 


610  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

they  discovered  that  it  was  rythmical.  In  fact,  it  was  caused 
by  the  creeping  of  hundreds  of  warriors  toward  the  white  men's 
camp.  The  assailants  fired  a  volley  into  the  camp,  but  with 
drew,  doing  little  damage.  The  next  night  the  whites  built 
large  camp-fires,  and  then  withdrew  to  another  position.  Again 
the  Indians  advanced.  Again  they  fired  their  volley.  This 
time,  however,  as  the  smoke  cleared  away  they  saw  nothing 
but  the  flickering  of  the  camp-fires  .and  the  darkness  of  the 
forest  beyond.  The  army  pushed  on  to  Etowah,  which 
occupied  a  position  near  that  of  the  present  city  of  Rome, 
Georgia. 

A  heavy  battle  took  place  at  this  point.  Great  numbers  of 
the  Indians  were  killed.  The  town  was  burnt,  and  the  object 
of  the  expedition  was  accomplished.  This  expedition  was  com 
manded  by  Colonel,  afterwards  Governor,  Sexier,  the  most 
noted  of  all  the  Indian  fighters  of  Tennessee.  He  was  in 
thirty-five  battles,  and  yet  in  all  his  engagements  lost  only 
fifty-six  men.  Such  was  his  strategy.  Etowah  was  his  last 
battle.  The  Indian  wars  were  drawing  to  a  close. 

On  the  22d  of  April,  1794,  the  cabin  of  Dr.  Cozby,  seven 
miles  above  Knoxville,  was  the  scene  of  an  adventure.  .  Cozby 
was  an  expert  Indian-fighter.  He  was  always  prepared  for  an 
attack,  and  knew  every  sign  of  an  approaching  enemy.  On  the 
evening  in  question  he  noticed  a  disturbance  among  his  animals. 
A  few  moments  later,  he  discovered  twenty  warriors  stealthily 
surrounding  his  house.  The  doors  were  closed  and  barred. 
Cozby  took  his  two  guns,  and,  placing  himself  at  a  port-hole, 
issued  commands  in  a  loud  voice  to  a  lot  of  imaginary  soldiers. 
The  Indians,  supposing  the  house  strongly  garrisoned,  gradually 
sneaked  away. 

Two  miles  further  on  lived  William  Casteel  and  his  family. 
In  the  morning  a  neighbor,  Anthony  Reagan,  went  to  Casteel's 
cabin  to  go  hunting  with  him,  as  had  been  arranged.  He  went 
in.  Lying  near  the  fire-place,  he  was  horrified  to  discover  his 
friend  Casteel,  half-dressed,  and  with  his  brains  scattered  over 


THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  TENNESSEEANS.  611 

the  floor  by  a  blow  from  a  war-club.  Near  by  lay  his  wife, 
with  a  butcher-knife  sticking  in  her  side,  one  hand  cut  off,  and 
the  other  arm  broken.  At  her  feet  lay  a  bloody  ax,  with  which 
she  had  defended  herself  to  the  last.  In  the  bed  lay  one  of  the 
daughters.  A  huge  knife  had  been  thrust  through  the  cover  into 
her  heart.  In  the  corner  lay  the  mangled  body  of  a  babe,  and 
another  daughter,  ten  years  old,  lay  on  the  floor  bleeding  from 
six  wounds.  As  the  man's  horrified  gaze  swept  around  the 
apartment  of  death,  an  awful  fear  entered  into  and  possessed 
him.  He  fled.  When  he  reached  the  nearest  house  he  had 
become  cooler.  He  had  recovered  his  senses. 

A  company  of  neighbors  assembled.  Armed  with  guns  and 
knives,  and  examining  with  suspicion  every  clustering  thicket, 
they  made  their  way  to  the  scene  of  the  tragedy.  A  grave  was 
dug.  The  corpses,  one  by  one,  were  carried  out  by  reverent 
hands  and  laid  away.  When  they  picked  up  the  body  of  Eliz 
abeth,  the  daughter  wounded  in  six  places,  the  girl  moaned. 
Seeing  signs  of  life,  the  neighbors  at  once  carried  her  to  one  of 
their  houses.  After  two  years  she  recovered,  and  lived  without 
a  scalp  to  an  extreme  age. 

In  September,  1794,  a  large  volunteer  army  assembled  at 
Knoxville  for  what  was  designed,  and  indeed  proved  to  be,  the 
last  great  Indian  expedition  within  the  borders  of  what  is  now 
the  State  of  Tennessee.  Colonel  Whitley,  of  Kentucky,  who  had 
gallantly  brought  a  company  of  men  from  his  own  State  to  the 
assistance  of  his  distressed  neighbors,  was  chosen  commander- 
in-chief.  The  guide  of  the  expedition  was  Joseph  Brown,  who 
was  about  to  fulfill  the  prophecy  of  the  old  squaw,  that  he 
would  live  to  lead  an  army  against  Nickajack.  So  successfully 
and  so  secretly  did  he  perform  his  task,  that  the  entire  town  of 
Nickajack  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  whites  with  scarcely  the 
loss  of  a  man.  Fifty-five  warriors  were  killed  in  the  place.  Some 
hastily  jumped  into  their  canoes  and  sought  to  escape.  Others 
swam  the  river.  But  nearly  all  were  killed. 

A  mile  above  Nickajack  stood  the  larger  village  of  Running 
34 


612  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Water.  Thither  fled  such  of  the  Indians  as  succeeded  in  escap 
ing,  where  they  posted  themselves  behind  rocks  on  the  sides 
of  a  mountain,  to  await  the  attack.  This  was  made  with  great 
skill.  The  men  pushed  their  way  undiscovered,  toward  the 
village,  through  a  field  of  standing  corn.  At  the  river  bank 
were  six  canoes.  Twenty-five  warriors  were  standing  near  by, 
as  if  about  to  embark.  A  volley  from  the  column  in  the  corn 
field  laid  every  boasting  brave  in  the  lowly  dust. 

Another  line  of  men  approached  the  Indian  position  from 
another  direction.  On  their  way  the  men  passed  two  cabins, 
which  a  detachment  was  at  once  detailed  to  attack.  A  squaw 
stood  outside  of  the  door  to  watch.  When  the  whites  were 
discovered,  the  brave  warriors  within  the  cabin  gallantly  shut 
and  barred  the  door,  leaving  the  poor  squaw  outside.  She 
attempted  to  escape  by  flight,  but  after  a  hard  chase  was  cap 
tured.  She  was  carried  up  to  the  town,  and  placed  with  other 
prisoners  in  canoes.  As  the  boat  in  which  she  was  carried  was 
being  taken  down  the  river,  the  squaw  loosened  her  clothes, 
sprang  head  foremost  into  the  river,  disengaging  herself  art 
fully  from  the  encumbrance,  leaving  the  garments  floating  upon 
the  water.  She  swam  with  the  grace  and  swiftness  of  a  fish. 
A  cry  went  up  of  "  shoot  her,  shoot  her."  But  the  men  who 
were  near,  admiring  her  address  and  agility,  were  gallant  enough 
to  suffer  her  to  escape. 

Another  detachment,  in  command  of  Joseph  Brown,  was 
placed  at  the  mouth  of  a  creek,  to  cut  off  the  escape  of  any 
who  should  be  missed  by  the  two  main  columns.  Colonel 
Whitley  mounted  a  small  swivel-gun  on  his  own  riding  horse, 
so  that  he  could  wheel  and  fire  in  any  direction.  Nearly  all 
the  Indians  were  killed  or  captured.  Brown  was  recognized 
by  the  captives,  and  whenever  they  caught  sight  of  him  they 
gnashed  their  teeth  and  lifted  up  their  voices  in  howls  of  rage. 

This  battle  was  fought  on  the  13th  of  September,  1794.  It 
broke  the  spirit  of  the  hostile  savages,  and  virtually  ended  the 
Indian  troubles  of  Tennessee. 


THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  SPENCER.  613 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  SPENCER. 

LIVER  M.  SPENCER  was  a  boy.  The  reader 
would  know  this  from  the  following  story.  His 
home  was  in  Columbia,  Ohio,  a  suburb  of  Cin 
cinnati.  On  the  4th  of  July,  1791,  he  was 
allowed  to  accompany  a  party  of  friends  to  Port 
Washington,  now  Cincinnati,  to  celebrate  the 
holiday.  After  the  usual  sports  of  a  day  or 
two,  Spencer,  then  ten  years  old,  and  another 
boy  of  eleven,  resolved  to  go  home  before  the  rest  of  the  party. 
Going  down  to  the  river,  they  succeeded  in  getting  a  place  in 
another  canoe.  They  had  proceeded  about  a  mile  when  one  of 
the  men,  who  was  drunk,  was  put  out  of  the  boat.  Spencer 
becoming  frightened  at  the  state  of  his  companions,  also  de 
manded  to  be  put  on  shore.  The  request  was  granted.  He 
had  proceeded  but  a  little  distance  when  he  saw  two  of  the 
men  in  the  boat  fall  overboard,  and  heard  two  rifle-shots. 
Turning  quickly,  he  discovered  an  Indian  within  ten  feet  of 
him,  and  after  a  short  flight  found  himself  a  prisoner. 

The  Indians  at  once  started  across  the  country  with  him, 
but  treated  him  with  some  kindness.  At  night  they  bound 
him  in  a  gentle  manner,  and  but  for  the  grief  of  his  childish 
heart,  he  might  have  slept  soundly.  Meanwhile,  unknown  to 
Spencer,  the  news  of  his  capture  had  been  borne  to  Fort 
Washington.  One  of  the  occupants  of  the  canoe,  Mr.  Light, 
though  wounded,  had  escaped.  Another,  an  old  woman  named 
Mrs.  Colman,  had  jumped  into  the  river,  and,  supported  by  her 


614  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

clothes,  had  floated  down  with  the  current  until  she  was  oppo 
site  Cincinnati,  where  she  was  rescued. 

For  several  days  Spencer  was  hurried  across  the  country. 
When  his  guards  wanted  to  go  hunting,  they  tied  him  to  a 
tree,  and  fastened  a  large  piece  of  bark  over  his  head  to  shel 
ter  him  from  the  sun.  One  day,  secured  in  this  way,  he 
managed  to  get  loose.  He  at  once  gathered  some  provision, 
mounted  a  horse  which  the  Indians  had  stolen,  and  started  in 
the  direction  of  home.  The  horse  proved  to  be  a  slow-footed 
beast,  but  the  boy  urged  him  on  unceasingly.  At  night  he 
dismounted,  bent  a  twig  so  that  it  would  point  in  the  direc 
tion  he  was  to  take  on  the  following  morning,  and  concealed 
his  horse  in  the  bushes.  Boy-like,  he  was  attracted  by  some 
raspberries  growing  near  by,  and  ran  around  from  bush  to 
bush  picking  them,  until  he  lost  the  way  to  where  he  had 
left  his  horse.  Finally  he  made  his  way  back  to  the  animal, 
and  lay  down  to  sleep. 

His  rest  was  not  long.  In  a  few  moments  he  heard  his  cap 
tors'  voices.  They  were  after  him.  With  considerable  tact  he 
at  once  rushed  out,  surrendered  himself,  and  begged  for  mercy. 
After  a  short  altercation  the  Indians  decided  not  to  kill  him. 
but  contented  themselves  with  giving  him  a  terrible  switching. 
For  the  night  he  was  bound  tightly  to  a  tree. 

In  the  morning  the  journey  was  renewed,  and  Spencer  was 
given  further  cause  to  reflect  on  his  sin  in  running  away,  by 
being  given  no  breakfast.  Later  in  the  day  they  came  to  an 
immense  hollow  sycamore  tree.  At  the  foot  was  a  large  open 
ing,  protected  by  a  barricade  of  logs.  From  this  tree  a  quan 
tity  of  blankets  and  brass  kettles  were  taken  and  packed  on  the 
horse.  On  the  13th  of  July  the  travelers  reached  an  Indian 
village  at  the  junction  of  the  Auglaize  and  Maumee  rivers. 
Here  Spencer  was  adopted  into  an  Indian  family,  and  here  he 
saw  Simon  Girty,  who  addressed  the  boy  roughly,  telling  him 
that  he  must  never  hope  to  see  his  home  again. 

As  the  months  went  by  a  well-defined  purpose  arose  in  the 


THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  SPENCER. 


615 


boy's  heart  to  make  an  escape.  In  order  to  do  this  he  resolved 
to  labor  without  ceasing  to  serve  the  Indians  and  gain  their 
confidence.  One  cold  December  day  he  was  sent  by  the  old 


SPENCER'S  ENCOUNTER  WITH  THE  WILD-CAT. 

squaw  with  whom  he  lived  to  chop  some  firewood.  He  took 
with  him  into  the  forest  a  sharp  ax,  and  was  accompanied  by 
a  faithful  dog.  Having  prepared  a  bundle  of  small  wood,  he 


616  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

was  about  to  swing  it  over  his  shoulder,  when  his  dog  began 
to  give  forth  the  most  lugubrious  howls,  which  were  followed 
by  short  and  furious  barks.  Seizing  his  ax,  Spencer  went 
toward  the  dog,  and  discovered,  crouched  on  the  lower  limb 
of  a  neighboring  tree,  "a  large  grayish  cat-like  animal,  ready 
to  spring." 

Spencer  knew  nothing  of  the  character  of  the  animal.  With 
the  natural  instinct  for  conflict  which  belongs  to  the  pioneer, 
young  or  old,  he  threw  a  club  at  the  animal.  At  that  instant 
puss  seemed  to  grow  larger.  A  strange  yellow  light  flamed  in 
her  eyes,  and  her  tail  waved  angrily  in  the  air.  There  was  a 
hiss,  a  howl,  a  shower  of  dried  leaves.  The  wild-cat  and  the 
dog  were  on  the  ground  together,  fighting.  The  dog  did  well, 
but  his  antagonist,  getting  her  teeth  in  his  nose,  was  rapidly 
overcoming  his  pugnacity,  and,  indeed,  was  in  a  situation  to 
demand  and  extort  an  apology  for  his  uncivil  treatment.  At  this 
point  Spencer  raised  his  ax  and  killed  the  animal.  Taking  the 
body  home,  it  was  found  to  measure  four  feet  from  tip  to  tip.  It 
would  probably  have  killed  the  boy  had  he  encountered  it  alone. 

In  time  Spencer's  friends  arranged  for  his  ransom.  The 
ruffian,  Elliott,  of  whom  we  have  spoken  in  other  chapters, 
came  after  him.  On  the  way  the  omnipresent  Girty  met  him, 
told  him  that  Elliott  was  not  going  to  take  him  home,  but 
intended  to  make  him  his  slave,  and  that  he,  for  his  part, 
intended  to  mark  Spencer  by  cutting  off  his  ears,  so  that  he 
would  know  him  again  when  he  met  him.  Spencer,  seeing  his 
danger,  ran  out  of  the  house,  and  the  threat  was  not  executed. 

On  the  way  north,  for  Spencer's  liberation  had  to  be  made 
through  the  British  commandant  at  Detroit,  he  stopped  over 
night  in  a  Wyandot  town.  A  young  Indian,  much  his  superior 
in  size  and  strength,  came  up  and  demanded  that  he  should 
wrestle  with  him.  Spencer  reluctantly  consented,  and  succeeded 
in  throwing  his  antagonist.  The  young  savage,  enraged  at  his 
want  of  skill,  seized  Spencer  by  the  hair,  whereupon  the*  latter 
proceeded  to  plant  his  fist  violently  in  his  opponent's  stomach. 


THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  SPENCER. 


617 


For  the  moment  the  trouble  was  ended  and  Spencer  walked 
away.  Suddenly  he  was  assailed  from  behind  by  the  cowardly 
Indian,  who  gave  him  a  dangerous  cut  with  a  knife.  An  old 
Indian,  however,  interfered,  drove  off  the  would-be  murderer, 
and  bound  up  the  white  boy's  wounds.  After  a  long  and  event 
ful  journey,  Spencer  reached  his  relatives  in  Elizabethtown, 
New  Jersey.  Thence  he  made  his  way  back  to  his  parents  in 
the  town  of  Columbia,  on  the  Ohio  River. 


618  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE. 

.R  to  the  south,  within  sound  of  the  restless 
roar  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  in  a  country  of 
remarkable  fertility,  threaded  by  numberless 
creeks  and  rivers,  the  white  man  found  a  great 
Indian  confederacy.  This  moist  region  was 
called,  for  want  of  a  better  name,  the  Creek 
Country.  In  the  process  of  time,  the  Indians 
who  inhabited  it  came  to  be  called  the  Creeks. 
This  nation,  thus  so  unceremoniously  christened  by  the  whites, 
was,  in  fact,  composed  of  many  tribes  of  Indians.  Long  before 
La  Salle  had  paddled  his  weary  way  down  the  Mississippi,  the 
Muscogees,  whose  original  home,  according  to  their  traditions, 
had  been  in  the  country  of  Mexico,  had,  after  long  wanderings 
as  far  north  as  the  Ohio,  finally  settled  in  the  region  which  we 
know  by  the  nances  of  Alabama  and  Mississippi.  The  Musco 
gees  were  warriors.  They  at  once  began  a  series  of  conquests, 
and,  like  Rome^  adopted!  ,  the  policy  of  incorporating  the  con 
quered  tribes  with  themselves. 

When  theArst  bold  explorers  threaded  their  way  through 
the  tropical  forests  and  the  network  of  lagoons  to  the  towns  of 
this  confederacy,  they  found  a  people  who,  in  the  darkness  of 
their  native  barbarism,  were  in  a  crude  way  working  out  for 
themselves  the  problem  of  civilization.  Tiaey  had  fixed  rules 
governing  marriage  and  divorce.  They  lived  i.n  houses.  They 
wore  clothes.  Each  town  had  a  separate  local  government.  It 
had  public  buildings  and  pleasure  houses.  They  had  fixed 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  621 

maxims  and  methods  of  government.  They  had,  moreover,  a 
system  of  social  caste.  There  were  certain  families  who  consti 
tuted  a  hereditary  nobility.  Of  these,  the  family  of  the  Wind 
ranked  first.  To  it  belonged  the  right  of  chieftaincy.  It  was, 
so  to  speak,  the  royal  family.  Inferior  to  the  family  of  the 
Wind  was  the  family  of  the  Bear ;  and  next  in  rank  was  that 
of  the  Deer.  These  three  castes  managed  to  absorb  all  the  posi 
tions  of  rank  and  profit. 

At  the  time  of  the  war  of  which  we  are  about  to  write,  they 
had,  in  addition  to  their  unaided  achievements,  derived  great 
benefit  from  intercourse  with  the  white  men.  Many  of  them 
had  intermarried.  The  upper  classes  had  learned  to  read  and 
write.  Many  half-breed  children  had  been  sent  to  northern 
schools  for  education.  The  system  of  a  community  of  property, 
which  is  the  very  core  of  barbarism,  was  giving  way  to  the  sys 
tem  of  individual  property.  They  owned  in  their  own  right, 
horses,  houses,  looms,  farms,  and  farming  implements.  They  had 
learned,  not  merely  to  trade,  but  even  to  manufacture  cloth  and 
other  articles.  All  this,  too,  they  had  achieved  in  spite  of 
their  fertile  soil  and  the  genial  climate.  History  shows  that 
nature  prodigal  of  her  gifts,  enervates,  while  a  sterile  country 
and  vigorous  climate  stimulate  and  sharpen  the  intellect  and 
energies  of  men. 

The  Creeks  were  treated  by  the  United  States  Government 
with  justice  and  fairness.  There  was  no  reasonable  cause  for 
complaint  on  either  side. 

About  1780  there  was  born  in  the  Creek  nation  a  child  des 
tined  to  be  known  among  his  own  people  as  Red  Eagle.  To 
the  whites  he  was  known  as  William  Weatherford.  His  mother 
was  a  princess ;  that  is,  she  belonged  to  the  family  of  the  Wind. 
He  was  the  nephew  of  Alexander  McGillivray,  a  man  of  mixed 
blood,  whose  genius,  shrewdness,  and  abilities  won  for  him  the 
leading  place  in  the  Creek  nation.  He  styled  himself  Emperor 
Alexander.  One  author  speaks  of  him  "as  a  man  of  towering 
intellect  and  vast  information,  who  ruled  the  Creek  country  for 


622  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  quarter  of  a  century."  Another  writer  says :  "  He  was  a 
man  of  the  highest  intellectual  abilities,  and  of  wonderful  tal 
ents  for  intrigue  and  diplomacy.  A  more  wily  Talleyrand  never 
trod  the  red  war-paths  of  the  frontiers,  or  quaffed  the  decep 
tive  black  drink  at  sham  councils."  „ 

When  Charles  Weatherford,  a  shrewd  and  wily  Scotch 
trader,  married  the  sister  of  the  Emperor  Alexander  McGilli- 
vray,  he  attained  at  once  a  rank  and  influence  among  the  Creeks 
which  few  men  of  the  purest  Muscogee  blood  possessed.  The 
Scotchman,  while  serving  the  nation,  managed  to  accumulate 
almost  boundless  wealth.  He  lived  like  a  king  in  his  splendid 
mansion  on  the  banks  of  the  Alabama.  Here  he  had  every 
luxury  which  money  could  procure.  Troops  of  negro  slaves 
ministered  to  himself  and  to  his  guests.  His  table  abounded  in 
the  rarest  tropical  fruits,  choice  game  from  distant  forests,  and 
sparkling  liquors,  cobweby  with  age. 

From  the  spacious  verandas  which  surrounded  his  palatial 
home,  one  looked  out  over  a  tropical  landscape  of  surpassing 
loveliness.  The  grounds  immediately  surrounding  the  house  were 
filled  with  noble  forest  trees,  from  whose  branches  hung  grace 
ful  festoons  of  southern  vines  and  mosses.  Magnolia  blossoms 
showered  their  fragrance  upon  the  summer  air.  Wild  orange- 
trees,  bearing  the  emblems  of  every  season  of  the  year,  were 
scattered  here  and  there.  Roses  and  honeysuckles,  in  wild  and 
negligent  profusion,  wound  their  clinging  arms  in  fond  embrace 
about  the  nearest  object  of  support.  Near  the  house  Weather- 
ford  kept  the  finest  race-track  in  America.  To  indulge  his 
favorite  sport,  he  imported  blooded  stock  from  the  most  famous 
stables  of  Europe. 

Amid  these  surroundings  was  born  Red  Eagle.  The  son  of 
the  wealthiest  man  in  the  nation,  and  by  inheritance  a  chief 
of  the  ruling  family,  he  had  the  best  of  tutors,  and  no  pains 
nor  expense  were  spared  in  his  education.  He  grew  up  a 
spoiled  child  of  fortune.  He  cared  nothing  for  books.  His 
tastes  were  the  offspring  of  the  wild  ancestry  of  his  Indian 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  623 

mother.  He  was  fond  of  every  athletic  sport.  He  was  a  splen 
did  swimmer,  a  tireless  walker,  and  an  unequaled  hunter  with  the 
bow  and  the  rifle.  He  was  a  natural  master.  From  no  meeting 
for  athletic  sports  among  the  Creek  towns  was  Red  Eagle  ever 
absent.  No  young  man  iu  all  the  nation  could  approach  him  in 
a  foot-race.  In  games  of  ball,  a  sport  conducted  with  such  vio 
lence  that  broken  limbs  and  even  death  were  not  infrequent, 
he  was  the  acknowledged  king. 

While  but  a  child,  he  displayed  the  rarest  graces  of  horse 
manship.  No  colt  was  too  unruly,  no  stallion  too  high-mettled 
for  this  adventurous  youth  to  mount  and  dash  in  mad  career 
across  the  country.  Such  was  his  perfection  as  a  rider  that  he 
seemed  almost  a  part  of  the  animal  he  rode.  An  old  Indian 
woman,  who  knew  the  young  chief  in  his  boyhood,  telling  of 
his  daring,  his  skill,  his  grace  as  a  horseman,  said  :  "  The  squaws 
would  quit  hoeing  corn  and  smile  and  gaze  upon  him  as  he  rode 
by  the  coi'n-patch." 

These  things  made  Red  Eagle  the  idol  of  his  people.  In 
the  wars  with  the  Choctaws  and  Chickasaws,  even  before  he 
reached  manhood,  he  displayed  the  most  tireless  activity  and 
reckless  courage.  His  name  was  greeted  with  enthusiasm  as 
that  of  the  coming  chief  in  every  house  in  the  nation.  Besides 
this,  he  possessed  great  personal  beauty.  His  figure  was  sym 
metrical  and  imposing,  and  his  countenance  that  of  a  born  king. 
He  possessed  intellectual  ability  of  the  highest  order.  His 
mind,  ignoring  trifles,  grappled  with  the  most  important  subjects 
which  agitated  his  country. 

To  all  these  gifts  was  added  that  of  eloquence.  Red  Eagk 
was  the  greatest  orator  that  ever  lived  among  the  Creeks.  It 
was  his  ambition  from  boyhood  to  become  distinguished  in  coun 
cil.  Lazy  and  indifferent  about  his  general  education,  he  gave 
the  most  persistent  attention  to  the  study  of  declamation  and 
oratory.  As  he  reached  maturity,  his  eloquent  voice  soon 
reigned  without  a  rival  in  the  council-hall.  His  imagination 
was  rich,  bold,  and  vivid ;  his  manner  impressive  in  the  highest 


624 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


degree.  When  unimportant  questions  were  being  discussed, 
Red  Eagle  looked  on  with  indifference.  His  lips  were  sealed. 
But  when  great  themes  agitated  the  council.  Red  Eagle,  with 


TECUMSEH  ENTERING  THE  COUNCIL. 

his  unapproachable  power  of  statement,  his  wealth  of  imagery, 
his  burning  zeal,  took  the  lead  in  the  debate,  and  bore  down  all 
opposition.  His  very  vices  endeared  him  to  the  popular  heart. 
Reared  in  wealth  and  idleness,  the  young  chief  was,  it  is  said, 
given  to  many  excesses. 

Such  was  the  man,  longing  for  some  great  popular  cause  in 
which  to  employ  his  wealth  of  talents  and  influence,  whom  Te- 
cumseh  found  when,  in  1811,  he  had  arrived,  from  the  far  north, 
in  the  Creek  country,  accompanied  by  thirty  warriors.  The 
great  chief  who  dwelt  by  the  waters  of  the  Miami  had  jour 
neyed  all  the  way  to  the  mighty  confederacy  of  the  south  for 
two  purposes.  As  an  agent  of  the  British,  he  was  to  incite 
the  southern  tribes  to  join  in  the  approaching  war  with  the 
Americans.  For  himself,  he  came  to  form  a  great  offensive  and 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  625 

defensive   alliance  of  all  the   Indians    of  America  against  the 
white  man. 

On  the  day  when,  with  great  pomp,  he  entered  the  council- 
hall  of  the  Creeks,  he  called  on  the  red  men  to  abandon  the 
plows  and  looms  and  arms  of  the  whites,  to  burn  the  garments 
they  had  been  induced  to  wear,  to  trample  under  foot  and  forget 
the  lessons  and  customs  which  they  had  been  taught  by  their 
white  foes.  He  told  them  that  the  white  men,  by  teaching 
them  to  till  the  ground,  were  seeking  to  weaken  and  degrade 
their  martial  spirit,  so  that  the  conquest  of  their  country  might 
be  more  easy.  Then,  with  impressive  gesture  and  accent,  he 
warned  them  that,  as  the  whites  already  held  the  negroes  in 
bondage,  their  purpose  was,  as  soon  they  became  strong  enough, 
to  reduce  the  Indians  to  slavery. 

A  prophet  accompanied  Tecumseh,  whose  business  it  was  to 
practice  upon  the  superstition  of  the  people.  He  told  them 
that  the  Great  Spirit  commanded  the  red  man  to  make  war 
upon  the  white  man.  To  prove  that  this  message  was  from  the 
Great  Spirit,  the  prophet  promised  them  a  miracle.  Whoever 
fought  in  the  war  should  come  out  of  it  unharmed,  while  the 
Americans  would  be  destroyed  in  impassable  morasses  with 
which  the  Great  Spirit  would  surround  them.  Besides  these 
methods,  Tecumseh  employed  another.  He  went  among  the 
people,  and  electioneered  with  the  warriors  in  person. 

In  this  way  a  large  part,  perhaps  a  majority,  of  the  Creeks 
became  ready  and  impatient  for  a  war  with  the  whites.  A 
strong  and  influential  minority,  however,  refused  to  yield  to 
Tecumseh's  arguments.  Among  these  was  Big  Warrior.  Al 
though  Tecumseh  was  his  honored  guest,  he  obstinately  refused 
to  forsake  his  allegiance.  It  is  said  that  Tecumseh  at  last  grew 
so  angry  with  Big  Warrior,  that  he  threatened,  when  he  reached 
Detroit,  to  stamp  his  foot  on  the  ground  and  shake  down  all  the 
houses  in  Tookabatcha,  and  that  a  few  months  afterwards  an 
earthquake  made  the  Creeks  believe  that  this  threat  had  been 
carried  out.  The  wealthier  Creeks,  who  were,  of  course,  a 


626  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

minority,  having  accumulated  property,  which  is  the  greatest  of 
all  conservative  forces  in  society,  were  strongly  opposed  to  the 
war.  They  saw  in  it  nothing  to  gain,  and  every  thing  to  lose. 

Among  his  converts,  Tecumseh  readily  discovered  that  of 
all  men  in  the  nation  Red  Eagle  was  the  man  for  his  purpose. 
His  great  talents  seemed  to  be  lying  idle,  waiting  for  some 
employment  worthy  of  their  owner.  He  was  wealthy,  and  had 
nothing  to  gain  by  commerce  with  the  whites.  He  was  born 
to  fortune,  and  consequently  held  his  possessions  in  light 
esteem.  Of  wild  and  undisciplined  passions,  and  full  of  a  lofty 
patriotism  and  love  of  state  affairs,  he  had  nursed  in  his  heart 
for  many  years  a  bitter  jealousy  and  overmastering  hostility 
towards  the  whites.  He  hated  the  restraint  of  law  and  civil 
ization.  He  loved  the  license  and  wild  liberty  of  savage  life. 
As  his  tastes  led  him  to  the  sports  of  the  forest,  he  looked 
with  concern  on  the  encroachments  of  the  white  men.  More 
over,  he  seemed  to  fear  that  an  attempt  would  be  made  to 
reduce  his  people  to  slavery  like  that  of  the  negroes. 

So,  after  listening  to  the  wily  Tecumseh,  Red  Eagle,  who 
saw  in  his  plans  a  gratification  for  his  own  fierce  love  for  war 
and  a  new  field  for  fame,  threw  himself  heart  and  soul  into 
the  enterprise  of  the  northern  chieftain.  Re-enforced  by  Red 
Eagle,  Tecumseh  found  new  methods  of  working  upon  the 
Creeks.  He  directed  his  prophet  to  "inspire"  some  Creeks 
with  prophetic  powers. 

A  shrewd  and  unscrupulous  half-breed  named  Francis,  was 
shut  up  alone  in  a  cabin  for  ten  days,  during  which  time  the 
prophet  howled  and  danced  around  the  building  in  the  most 
fantastic  manner.  When  the  ten  days  were  accomplished,  he 
brought  Francis  forth,  telling  the  people  that  he  was  now 
blind,  but  would  soon  receive  his  sight  back  so  improved 
that  he  could  see  what  was  to  happen  in  the  future.  Fran 
cis  allowed  himself  to  be  led  around,  pretending  to  stumble 
over  obstacles  like  a  blind  man.  Suddenly  he  affirmed  that 
he  had  received  his  sight,  with  the  improved  quality  of 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  627 

prophecy.  He,  with  others  inspired  in  a;  similar  manner,  worked 
night  and  day,  practicing  all  sorts  of  conjurations  in  behalf  of 
the  war-party.  Public  feeling  among  the  Creeks  was  roused 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  excitement.  The  strife  of  factions 
became  very  bitter.  The  two  parties  indulged  in  crimination 
and  recrimination.  The  Creeks  were  ready  for  civil  war. 

A  spark  soon  fell  in  the  tinder  box.  Some  Creeks,  return 
ing  with  Tecumseh  to  Canada,  assaulted  a  settlement  and  mur 
dered  seven  families.  Under  the  treaty  between  the  Creeks 
and  the  United  States,  the  murderers  were  required  to  be  pun 
ished.  The  chiefs  of  the  peace  party  at  once  organized  bands 
of  warriors  for  this  purpose.  The  murderers  were  pursued  to 
their  retreats  among  the  most  distant  tribes,  hounded  down 
by  the  relentless  avengers,  shot,  stabbed,  or  tomahawked  in 
open  fight  or  by  secret  stealth  wherever  found,  until  the  last 
criminal  paid  for  his  fault  with  the  penalty  of  death. 

This  vengeance  widened  the  schism  in  the  Creek  nation. 
The  war  party  retaliated  by  committing  a  number  of  outrages 
upon  the  white  men.  Big  Warrior  was  aroused.  He  asked  for 
a  council  with  the  chiefs  of  the  war  party.  The  request  was 
haughtily  refused.  Next  he  sent  word  to  them,  saying,  that  if 
the  miracles  which  they  talked  about  should  also  be  wrought 
before  the  chiefs  of  the  peace  party,  then  the  latter  would 
also  believe.  To  this  the  war  Creeks  responded  by  murdering  a 
party  of  emigrants,  by  sacking  a  plantation,  and  by  destroying 
the  property  of  some  of  the  peaceful  Creeks  themselves. 

About  this  time  a  friendly  ^half-breed  named  McNac  was 
attacked  in  his  home  and  had  his  cattle  stolen.  He  saved  him 
self  for  awhile  by  hiding  in  the  swamp,  but  was  unluckily  cap 
tured  by  High  Head  Jim.  McNac  lied.  He  said  he  belonged 
to  the  war-party.  He  found  out  that  a  plot  was  laid  to  kill 
Big  Warrior,  Captain  Isaacs,  Mad  Dragon's  son,  and  all  the 
chiefs  of  the  peace  party.  This  done,  High  Head  Jim  said 
war  was  at  once  to  be  waged  upon  the  whites.  McNac  escaped 
and  warned  the  intended  victims.  Meanwhile  marauding  parties 


628  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

of  increasing  size  roamed  over  the  country,  plundering  planta 
tions  of  whites  and  peace  Indians  alike.  The  settlers  resolved 
on  self-defense.  An  army  of  two  hundred  volunteers  went  out 
to  whip  a  marauding  party  of  the  Creeks.  The  battle  fought 
is  known  as  the  battle  of  Burnt  Corn.  The  white  men  were 
ingloriously  whipped. 

At  this  point  in  the  war  Red  Eagle  wavered.  He  discov 
ered  that  he  had  failed  to  carry  with  him  the  entire  Creek 
nation.  Among  the  minority  who  sternly  opposed  him  were 
many  of  his  friends  and  relatives.  He  had  met  them  face  to 
face  in  the  bloody  battle  of  Burnt  Corn.  His  ambition  had  led 
him  to  seek  a  war  with  the  whites.  In  fact,  it  had  involved 
him  in  a  civil  war. 

There  was  yet  another  motive.  He  was  rich,  young,  hand 
some,  and  a  widower.  He  had  a  sweetheart,  Lucy  Cornells,  a 
young  girl  of  mixed  blood,  the  rarest  beauty  of  the  Creek 
nation.  Upon  her  Red  Eagle  had  lavished  all  the  wealth  of 
his  passionate  affections.  In  his  nature  there  was  much  of 
romance  and  sentiment.  In  debate  he  was  the  sternest  of  the- 
stern.  In  love  he  was  the  tenderest  of  the  tender.  He  now 
found  that  among  the  Creeks  against  whom  he  was  about 
to  wage  cruel  and  bloody  civil  war  was  the  family  of  his 
sweetheart. 

On  the  discovery  by  McNac  of  the  plot  for  the  assassina 
tion,  the  peace  Indians  and  half-breeds  were  struck  with  con 
sternation.  Among  throngs  of  others,  Lucy  Cornells's  father  fled 
with  his  family  to  take  refuge  in  Fort  Minis.  Against  this  very 
fort  Red  Eagle  was  already  plotting  a  campaign.  What  were 
all  the  affairs  of  state,  the  triumphs  in  debate,  the  glory  of  the 
battle-field  to  Red  Eagle,  who  was  as  chivalrous  as  he  was 
brave,  if  thereby  he  must  lose  the  affection  of  the  girl  he 
loved?  More  than  this,  how  could  he  imperil  her  life,  which 
was  dearer  to  him  than  his  own,  by  a  siege  and  probably  mas 
sacre,  where  she  had  sought  refuge  from  his  own  arms. 

These    things    perplexed    Red    Eagle.      He    kept   his    own 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  629 

counsel,  and  resolved  to  seek  the  advice  of  his  relatives,  who 
belonged  to  the  peace  party.  He  secretly  made  his  way  to 
their  homes.  He  told  them  that  he  was  in  love.  A  man  in 
love  has  no  reason,  no  judgment.  He  is  like  a  diver  at  the 
bottom  of  the  ocean.  All  around  him  is  strange,  mysterious, 
and  unreal.  All  his  past  life  is  forgotten.  All  his  plans  and 
hopes  for  the  future  are  driven  from  his  mind.  He  even  forgets 
his  own  identity.  Those  who  are  most  nearly  and  dearly  related 
to  him  seem  to  him  but  phantoms.  With  them  he  has  no  real, 
tangible  connection.  All  thought,  all  memory,  all  consciousness 
are  absorbed  and  concentrated  into  a  single  notion,  one  overmas 
tering  feeling.  It  is  the  fact  that  he  is  countless  fathoms  deep 
beneath  the  surface  where  others  float.  If  any  emergency 
befalls,  if  for  any  reason  he  needs  help,  all  he  can  do  is  to 
make  the  signal  of  distress  to  friends  above  him.  This  was 
what  Red  Eagle  did.  From  the  depths  of  the  ocean  he  pulled 
the  signal  rope. 

His  friends,  like  all  friends,  were  ready  with  advice.  They 
told  him  to  go  back,  to  remove  as  secretly  as  possible  his  fam 
ily,  his  negroes,  and  as  much  of  his  live  stock  as  he  could,  to 
their  plantations,  which  were  in  the  district  of  the  peace  party ; 
that  he  should  follow  them  there,  and  remain  quietly  at  home 
until  the  troubles  of  the  nation  were  over.  Red  Eagle  accepted 
this  advice.  *He  was  like  one  who  is  mesmerized.  All  that  is 
necessary  to  make  the  subject  do  any,  particular  thing  is  simply 
to  crook  the  finger.  No  matter  how  ridiculous  it  may  be  he  will 
not  refuse  to  obey.  He  went  back  to  his  home. 

But  it  was  now  too  late  for  him  to  retreat.  His  infidelity 
had  been  suspected.  In  his  absence  his  children  and  negroes 
had  been  seized,  and  were  held  as  hostages  for  his  fidelity. 
He  was  told  that  if  he  deserted  the  cause  of  the  war-party,  his 
children  should  at  once  be  put  to  death. 

Red  Eagle  was  now  overwhelmed  by  the  very  storm  which  he 
tad  stirred.  He  had  evoked  the  Genii  from  their  prison,  and  the 
spirits  would  riot  down  at  his  bidding.  For  him  there  remained 

35 


a 


I     D 


630  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

but  one  thing.  It  was  to  lead  his  men  to  battle.  So  there  was 
preparation  for  war.  The  Creek  braves  painted  themselves  in 

gaudy  colors,  and  concentrated  in  large 
numbers.  The  white  men,  on  their  part, 
hastily  constructed  small  forts,  or  re 
paired  fortifications  which  were  already 
in  existence.  Of  these,  of  which  there 
were  more  than  twenty  among  the  set 
tlements,  Fort  Mims  was  the  largest  and 
strongest.  It  was  located  near  the  Ala 
bama  River,  and  a  few  miles  above  its 
junction  with  the  Tombigbee.  Samuel 

REGION  OF  THE  CREEK  WAR.         ,,.  ,    ,    .  .     ,   ,  ,        ,  , 

Minis  and  his  neighbors  had  constructed 

the  fortification,  and  to  that  place  the  people  of  the  surrounding 
country — men,  women,  and  children,  white,  black,  red,  and 
yellow — fled  for  safety. 

General  Claiborne,  with  a  small  force  of  volunteers  and  reg 
ulars,  was  the  military  commander  of  the  whites.  To  Fort 
Mims  he  dispatched  Major  Beasley,  with  one  hundred  and 
seventy-five  men.  These,  with  the  militia  already  there,  gave 
the  post  a  garrison  of  two  hundred  and  forty-five  men.  Beas 
ley  was  ordered  to  construct  a  second  stockade  around  the 
first,  and  two  additional  block-houses,  an  order  which  was  but 
partially  carried  out.  • 

Altogether  there  were  about  five  hundred  and  fifty  people 
in  the  fort  whose  lives  were  committed  to  the  care  of  Major 
Beasley.  He,  however,  neglected  the  proper  precautions.  He 
forgot  the  great  responsibility  resting  on  his  shoulders.  His 
raw  troops,  instead  of  being  disciplined  by  daily  drills  and 
military  routine,  passed  their  time  in  playing  cards  and  drink 
ing.  The  new  line  of  picketing  was  left  unfinished,  as  wrere 
also  the  new  block-houses.  He  was  even  deaf  to  the  plainest 
warnings  of  danger.  A  negro,  who  had  been  captured  by  Red 
Eagle,  escaped,  and  making  his  way  to  Fort  Mims  with  infinite 
peril,  told  the  commandant  that  an  overwhelming  force  of 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  631 

Indians  were  on  their  way  to  attack  it.  Beasley  sent  out  some 
scouts,  but  they,  as  they  discovered  no  Indians  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  the  fort,  returned  and  told  the  negro  he  was  a 
liar.  On  another  day,  two  negroes,  who  had  been  out  guarding 
some  cattle,  came  running  to  the  fort  in  the  greatest  terror. 
They  declared  that  they  had  seen  a  large  body  of  Indians.  A 
party  of  horsemen  at  once  sallied  forth  to  the  spot  where  the 
negroes  averred  they  had  seen  the  savages.  They  found  the 
forest  silent,  and  apparently  unoccupied.  Red  Eagle's  men  had 
disappeared  like  phantoms.  So  the  brave  horsemen  rode  back 
to  the  fort  and  denounced  the  negroes  as  liars.  One  of  them 
was  at  once  tied  to  a  whipping-post  and  flogged,  for  giving  a 
false  alarm.  The  other  was  saved  for  awhile  by  the  inter 
ference  of  his  master.  It  is  a  historical  fact  that  when  the 
attack,  which  we  are  about  to  describe,  was  made  upon  the 
fort,  this  negro  was  standing  tied,  waiting  for  his  whipping. 

When  the  negro  who  had  been  whipped  went  forth  to  attend 
to  his  cattle,  he  again  saw  the  Indians,  but  fearing  to  return 
to  the  fort  and  give  the  alarm,  lest  he  should  be  whipped,  he  ran 
away.  Such  was  the  work  of  the  commander's  folly. 

Red  Eagle  was  a  soldier — a  strategist.  Of  him,  Andrew 
Jackson  afterwards  said :  "  This  man  is  fit  to  command  great 
armies."  The  negroes  had  told  the  truth.  The  Indians  were 
hovering  near  the  fort.  They  had  been  there  for  several  days, 
watching  their  opportunity.  Of  all  this  the  defenders  of  the 
fort  were  sweetly  oblivious.  The  gates  stood  open  day  and 
night.  The  wind  had  blown  a  heap  of  sand  against  the  bottom 
of  the  gates.  This  fact,  trifling  to  a  careless  observer,  was 
really  important.  The  gates  could  not  be  closed  until  the 
accumulating  sand  should  be  shoveled  away.  This  would  take 
time.  The  gates  could  not  be  closed  in  a  hurry.  Red  Eagle 
observed  the  pile  of  sand,  although  the  commander  of  the  fort 
did  not.  The  Indian  strategist  said:  "We  will  wait  until  the 
sand  is  heaped  a  little  higher."  The  wind  was  busy  while  the 
soldiers  slept.  The  sand  heap  grew. 


632  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

On  the  morning  when  the  runaway  negro  had  a  second  time 
seen  Indians  Red  Eagle  lay  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the 
fort  at  the  head  of  a  thousand  warriors.  He  was  like  a  wild  ani 
mal  watching  for  its  prey,  only  waiting  the  proper  moment  to 
spring  forth.  The  morning  hours  passed  as  usual  at  the  fort. 
No  guards  were  posted.  The  men  occupied  themselves  with 
idle  games  and  disorderly  fun.  All  seemed  opportune.  Why 
did  not  the  tiger  spring  forth  from  the  forest  ?  The  dinner-bell 
rang  in  the  fort.  There  was  a  confused  uproar  of  men,  women, 
and  children  crowding  their  way  with  noisy  fun  toward  the 
tables  of  the  barracks.  There  was  time  for  all  to  be  quietly 
seated  at  the  meal. 

At  that  moment  Red  Eagle  rose  and  gave  the  signal  for 
advance.  A  line  of  Indians  started  forward  with  the  speed  of 
the  wind,  yet  as  silent  as  cats,  toward  the  open  gates.  They 
were  within  ninety  feet  of  them  before  any  one  in  the  fort  dis 
covered  the  enemy.  A  few  men  who  happened  to  be  near  the 
gates  started  to  close  them.  They  gave  the  heavy,  wooden 
portals  a  sudden  pull,  but  they  remained  fixed  in  their  place. 
The  sand  heaps  blown  up  by  the  sportive  wind  were  to  cost 
hundreds  of  lives.  In  their  fright  and  despair  the  men  tugged 
furiously  and  frantically  at  the  gates.  They  tried  to  kick  the 
sand  away.  It  was  no  use.  They  could  not  budge  the  gates. 
The  Indians  rushed  in  with  resistless  momentum,  hurling  the 
little  group  of  white  men  back  from  their  pathway  with  the 
force  of  an  express  train. 

The  alarm-cry  was  now  heard  in  every  quarter  of  the  fort. 
Women  screamed.  Men  upset  the  dinner  tables  in  their  frantic 
haste.  Every  one  seized  the  nearest  weapon,  gun,  tomahawk,  or 
club,  and  rushed  forth  to  expel  the  foe.  Luckily  there  was  a 
second  line  of  picketing,  partly  completed,  back  of  the  gate, 
which  prevented  the  Indians  from  making  their  way  at  once 
into  the  body  of  the  fort.  The  garrison,  in  wild  confusion, 
at  once  commenced  a  hand-to-hand  conflict.  Among  the  first  to 
fall,  mortally  wounded,  was  Major  Beasley,  the  careless  com- 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  633 

mandant.  He  refused  to  be  carried  to  the  interior  of  the  fort, 
preferring  to  remain  where  he  was,  to  animate  and  direct  his 
troops,  and  by  courage  to  atone  for  his  negligence.  He  remained 
in  command  of  his  troops  until  death  overtook  him. 

Th'e  battle  was  terrible.  The  men  fought  like  demons.  Upon 
their  success  in  driving  the  Indians  from  the  fort  depended,  as 
they  knew,  not  only  their  own  lives,  but  those  of  the  women 
and  children  who  had  been  placed  in  their  care.  It  was  a  fight 
in  which  the  antagonists  sought  to  club,  chop,  and  hack  each 
other  to  death.  They  siezed  one  another's  throat  with  a  vise- 
like  gripe,  of  which  the  invincible  tenacity  relaxed  only  with 
death  itself.  For  two  hours  the  conflict  raged  with  stubborn 
violence.  The  very  women  of  the  fort,  horrified  by  the  fate 
which  seemed  to  await  them,  armed  themselves  with  such 
weapons  as  they  could  procure,  and  with  wild  screams  and 
nervous  fury,  mingled  in  the  bloody  fray. 

In  spite  of  the  utmost  endeavors  of  the  white  men;  in 
spite  of  the  barricade  of  corpses  behind  which  they  fought;  in 
spite  of  the  wounds  and  flowing  blood,  the  savages  gained 
ground.  Outnumbering  the  garrison  three  to  one,  they  beat 
back  their  foes,  overpowering  them  at  point  after  point.  As 
the  Indians  advanced  into  the  interior  of  the  fort  they  fired  the 
buildings.  The  whites,  driven  back  farther  and  farther,  were 
forced  for  their  last  refuge  to  a  small  inclosure  called  the  bas 
tion.  Above  the  din  of  the  conflict  arose  in  every  quarter  the 
warning  cry  of  "  To  the  bastion !"  In  a  moment  the  inclosure 
was  packed  so  full  of  people  that  no  one  could  move,  much  less 
fight.  The  wails  of  women  mingled  with  the  roar  of  the  flames 
and  the  hoarse  shouts  of  the  blackened  soldiery  grew  feebler 
•and  feebler. 

At  this  point,  Red  Eagle  rose  to  the  height  of  heroism.  He 
called  upon  his  warriors  to  desist.  Dismounting  from  his  splen 
did  horse,  he  placed  himself  in  front  of  the  howling  murderers, 
and  sought  by  imperious  commands  and  earnest  appeals  to  stop 
the  carnage.  But  for  the  second  time  in  his  life  he  found  that 


634  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

he  had  let  loose  a  storm  which  he  could  not  control.  As  he 
now  labored  to  save  the  lives  of  the  remaining  whites,  his  fol 
lowers,  with  fierce  suspicion,  told  him  that  not  long  before  he 
had  attempted  to  desert  from  the  cause,  and  if  he  made  further 
efforts  in  behalf  of  their  enemies  that  he  himself  was  the  first 
man  who  should  be  put  to  death.  Foiled  in  his  best  intentions, 
Red  Eagle  mounted  and  rode  away  from  the  scene  of  the  mas 
sacre  to  calm  the  raging  torrent  of  his  thoughts  in  solitude. 

The  persons  remaining  in  the  fort  were  put  to  death,  making 
more  than  five  hundred  people  who  perished  in  the  massacre. 
About  twenty  of  the  occupants  of  the  fort  succeeded  in  chop 
ping  a  hole  through  the  outer  picketing.  Their  adventures  were 
various.  Dr.  Thomas  G.  Holmes  wandered  five  days  in  swamps 
and  cane-brakes.  At  last  he  fired  his  gun  for  help.  Some  white 
men  who  were  near  were  so  frightened  that  they  themselves 
took  to  the  swamp  and  remained  for  two  days.  Holmes  was 
finally  saved.  Lieutenant  Chamblies  was  twice  wounded  in  his 
flight,  but  succeeded  in  concealing  himself  in  a  pile  of  logs. 
Toward  night  the  lieutenant  was  horrified  to  discover  a  band 
of  Indians  surrounding  the  log-pile  and  setting  fire  to  it.  He 
remained  in  his  position  till  he  was  terribly  burned,  but  was 
rejoiced  to  see  the  Indians  leave  just  as  he  was  forced  to  crawl 
from  his  hiding-place. 

Zachariah  Me  Girth  had  left  Fort  Minis  on  the  morning  of 
the  massacre,  leaving  behind  him  his  wife  and  children.  Hav 
ing  gone  but  a  few  miles  he  heard  the  roar  of  battle  at  the  fort, 
and  started  back,  filled  with  anxiety  concerning  his  family. 
Late  at  night  he  made  his  way  into  the  fort,  and  began  an 
agonizing  search  among  the  bodies  of  the  slain  for  the  corpses 
of  his  wife  and  children.  By  the  help  of  a  torch  and  the  glow 
from  the  embers  of  the  block-houses,  he  sought  everywhere, 
turning  over  and  examining  the  bloody  and  mangled  remains. 

After  several  hours  spent  in  the  sickening  task,  he  was 
forced  to  conclude  that  his  family  were  among  those  who  had 
been  consumed  in  the  buildings.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  a  young 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  635 

Indian,  recognizing  in  McGirth's  wife  a  former  friend,  had  res 
cued  her  and  her  children.  He  told  his  fellow-warriors  that 
he  wished  to  make  them  slaves.  McGirth,  ignorant  of  all  this, 
caring  no  longer  for  life,  became  the  most  reckless  scout  and 
Indian  fighter  in  the  American  army.  Several  months  after 
ward  his  family  were  restored  to  him;  it  was  as  if  they  had 
arisen  from  the  dead. 

Two  days  after  the  massacre  of  Fort  Mims,  the  prophet 
Francis,  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  warriors,  assaulted  a  house 
and  killed  twelve  persons.  A  Mrs.  Merrill,  in  the  house  with 
an  infant  in  her  arms,  had  been  scalped  and  left  for  dead. 
Hours  afterward  she  revived,  and  attempted  to  crawl  to  Fort 
Sinquefield,  two  miles  away,  which  she  succeeded  in  doing.  At 
the  time,  her  husband  was  serving  as  a  volunteer  in  the  army. 
He  .heard  of  the  butchery,  receiving  information  of  his  wife's 
supposed  death.  Before  the  wife  had  recovered  sufficiently  to 
communicate  with  her  husband,  he  too,  was  reported  as  killed 
in  battle.  In  fact,  he  was  sent  by  mistake  with  the  wounded 
volunteers  from  Tennessee  to  that  State. 

Years  passed  by.  Mrs.  Merrill  married  again.  Late  one 
evening,  an  emigrant  family  on  their  way  to  Texas  asked  for 
a  night's  lodging  at  her  house.  Scarcely  had  the  guests  been 
comfortably  seated,  when  the  husband  of  the  emigrant  family 
and  the  hostess  recognized  each  other.  Each  had  married,  sup 
posing  the  other  dead.  In  this  complication  what  was  to  be 
done?  They  talked  far  into  the  night.  Both  were  happy  in 
their  present  relations.  They  at  last  resolved,  not,  perhaps, 
without  a  shade  of  regret,  to  forget  the  past  and  live  for  the 
future  as  they  were. 

Misfortunes  come  not  as  single  spies,  but  in  battalions.  The 
dead  at  Fort  Mims  were  brought  to  Fort  Sinquefield  for  burial. 
The  people  in  the  fort,  unarmed  and  absorbed  in  their  sorrow, 
went  outside  the  stockade  to  a  little  valley  fifty  yards  away  to 
bury  the  bodies  of  their  friends.  At  this  moment,  Francis,  who 
was  shadowing  the  place,  attempted  to  throw  his  party  of  war- 


636 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


riors  between  the  white  people  and  the  gates.  The  men  suc 
ceeded  in  reaching  the  fort,  but  the  women  and  children  were 
unfortunately  cut  off. 

Their  condition  seemed  hopeless.  A  thrill  of  horror  shot 
through  the  hearts  of  the  men  at  the  fort.  But  life  is  full  of 
strange  coincidences.  A  young  man  named  Isaac  Haden,  a  hun 
ter,  who  kept  a  large  pack  of  hounds  trained  to  chase  and  seize 
any  living  object  upon  which  their  master  might  set  them, 
appeared  at  this  critical  moment  returning  from  a  hunt.  His 


THE  DOG  CHARGE. 

quick  eye  caught  the  situation.  With  a  cry  to  his  hounds  he 
dashed  forward  on  his  horse  against  the  host  of  Indians.  The 
watchers  at  the  fort  and  the  helpless  women  without  paused  in 
breathless  anxiety  to  witness  the  strange  maneuver.  In  a 
moment  every  one  of  the  sixty  ferocious  hounds  had  his  fangs 
fastened  in  the  throat  of  a  savage.  The  Indians  were  over 
whelmed  by  the  strange  assault.  In  the  few  precious  moments 
the  imperiled  ones  were  rescued.  Young  Haden  had  his  noble 
horse  shot  from  under  him,  and  had  five  bullet-holes  through 
his  clothes.  A  Mrs.  Phillips  was  the  only  one  who  lost  her  life. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE. 


637 


The  news  of  the  massacre  of  Fort  Mims  spread  like  wild 
fire  through  the  south.  The  entire  white  population  on  the 
Creek  frontiers  was  in  danger  of  instant  destruction.  To  obtain 
help  from  the  government  at  Washington,  was  impossible.  It 
would  take  a  month  to  send  the  news,  and  another  one  for 
the  soldiers  to  reach  the  field  of  action.  In  this  crisis  the 
warm-hearted  south 
ern  States  impul 
sively  called  for  vol 
unteers  to  save  their 
friends  and  neighbors. 

General  Andrew 
Jackson,  lying  sick 
and  enfeebled  on  his 
bed  of  pain,  an 
nounced  that  he 
would  start  to  the 
front  as  soon  as  he 
could  be  helped  into 
a  saddle.  He  was 
yet  a  sick  man,  pale 
and  emaciated,  when, 
under  the  inspiration 
of  his  lofty  will,  he 
started  to  meet  the  army  of  volunteers  which  had  been  raised 
for  him.  Arrived  there,  he  found  one  thousand  raw  troops, 
completely  without  provision  for  the  expedition  into  the  Indian 
country.  Nevertheless,  with  or  without  food,  he  determined  to 
inarch.  In  a  single  day  the  army  constructed  a  supply  post, 
called  Fort  Deposit,  on  Thompson's  creek.  During  the  march 
southward  the  men  seem  to  have  subsisted  almost  entirely  upon 
the  zeal  and  enthusiasm  of  Jackson's  eloquent  addresses,  which 
were  issued  to  the  men  several  times  a  day. 

During  the  night  of  the  2d  of  November  Jackson  prepared 
to  assault  the  Indian  town  of  Tallushatchee.     The  tw*o  wings 


ANDREW  JACKSON. 


638  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

of  the  army  encircled  the  town  on  either  side.  At  sunrise  two 
companies  were  thrown  forward  into  the  circle.  This  at  once 
brought  on  the  battle.  It  raged  with  great  fury.  That  victory 
belonged  to  the  Americans  was  very  soon  evident.  But  the 
Indians  refused  to  fly  or  accept  quarter.  Again  and  again, 
parties  of  braves,  and  even  single  warriors  were  urged  to  throw 
down  their  arms  and  submit.  But  with  a  heroism  which  rivaled 
that  of  Leonidas  and  his  three  hundred  Spartans,  every  offer 
of  mercy  was  rejected.  Every  warrior  fought  the  overwhelm 
ing  hosts  which  surrounded  him  as  long  as  he  could  stand  or 
sit.  Even  in  the  agonies  of  death  the  Creek  braves  would  shoot 
malignant  and  unforgiving  glances  at  their  conquering  foe,  and 
feebly  attempt  to  hurl  a  tomahawk  at  the  nearest  white  man. 
They  forced  the  Americans  to  turn  the  battle  into  a  butchery. 
Every  brave  in  the  village  was  killed,  the  total  falling  not 
short  of  two  hundred.  History  presents  no  more  complete 
destruction  of  any  fighting  force. 

Still  no  provisions  reached  the  army.  With  unflinching 
boldness  Jackson  continued  his  march  to  the  south.  He  built 
another  post,  Fort  Strother,  for  the  reception  of  provisions.  It 
was  literally  an  empty  mockery.  There  were  no  provisions. 
Here  word  reached  Jackson  that  some  friendly  Indians  were 
besieged  at  Talladega.  The  ingenuity  of  the  messenger  who 
brought  the  news,  in  effecting  his  escape  from  the  beleaguered 
town,  has  not  been  equaled  among  all  the  marvelous  exploits 
heretofore  recited  in  these  pages.  He  was  a  boy.  He  had  cov 
ered  himself  with  the  skin  of  a  large  hog,  and  had  wandered 
about  on  all  fours,  as  if  hunting  for  roots.  At  times,  when  he 
came  near  to  hostile  Indians,  he  would  lie  down  comfortably 
in  a  mud  puddle.  In  this  way  he  had  escaped  detection. 

Once  more  Jackson  marched  his  army  into  the  presence  of 
an  enemy,  without  supplies.  The  battle  of  Talladega  was  sim 
ilar  in  plan  to  its  predecessor,  and  about  as  successful.  Two 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  Indian  warriors  were  counted  dead 
upon  the  ground. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  639 

More  extensive  operations  were  absolutely  impossible  until 
food  could  be  procured  by  Jackson  for  his  starving  men.  While 
his  army  lay  idle  at  Fort  Strother,  Red  Eagle's  superb  genius 
for  war  was  active  in  other  parts  of  the  field.  There  was  dan 
ger  of  famine  among  the  white  settlers,  unless  the  crops  could 
be  gathered  from  the  fields.  To  do  this  it  was  necessary,  tem 
porarily  at  least,  to  rid  the  country  of  hostile  prowlers.  In  this 
way  came  about  the  celebrated  "  Canoe  Fight."  A  force  of  sev 
enty-two  men,  under  Captain  Sam  Dale,  undertook  to  rid  a  par 
ticular  section  of  the  country  of  Indians.  Dale  was  marching 
his  command  along  the  south-east  bank  of  the  Alabama  River, 
when,  dissatisfied  at  finding  no  traces  of  Indians,  he  determined 
to  cross  the  river.  The  job  was  by  no  means  a  small  one.  Only 
two  little  canoes  were  to  be  had.  The  river  was  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  wide. 

At  last,  however,  only  twelve  men,  together  with  Dale, 
remained  on  the  east  bank  of  the  river.  While  waiting  their 
turn  for  transportation,  the  little  company  was  startled  by  a 
volley  of  bullets  from  a  large  force  -of  Indians.  Dale's  men 
concealed  themselves  in  the  dense  undergrowth  of  the  river 
bank,  and  behind  trees.  The  situation  was  dangerous.  Should 
the  savages  suspect,  from  the  infrequency  of  the  fire,  the  small- 
ness  of  their  numbers,  they  would  quickly  rush  down  and  over 
power  them. 

Escape  to  the  other  side  was  the  one  thing  to  be  desired. 
For  this  purpose,  however,  they  had  only  one  canoe,  the  other 
being  across  the  river.  This  boat  would  hold  but  six  men,  and 
the  movement  would  involve  a  separation  of  the  company.  The 
Indians  on  shore,  seeing  the  canoe  crossing  the  river,  would  at 
once  suspect  the  smallness  of  the  force  opposed  to  them,  and 
would  quickly  overpower  those  who  were  left  behind. 

Dale  signaled  to  his  men  on  the  other  side  for  assistance. 
Eight  of  them  started  to  cross  the  river,  but  discovering  the 
immense  strength  of  the  Indian  force,  hastily  put  back  to  shore. 
A  new  danger  now  assailed  the  little  band.  A  large  canoe, 


640  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

containing  eleven  warriors,  was  discovered  putting  out  from  the 
bank  and  making  its  way  down  to  a  point  opposite  Dale's  posi 
tion.  In  a  few  moments  they  attempted  to  land. 

Dale's  party,  attacked  from  front  and  rear,  fought  in  both 
directions.  Two  of  the  warriors  in  the  canoe  attempted  to  swim 
ashore.  One  was  shot  through  the  top  of  the  head.  The  other, 
reached  the  shore  and  was  met  by  Austill.  At  the  moment  of 
the  encounter  Austill  slipped  and  fell  into  the  water.  The  sav 
age  cast  one  keen  glance  at  the  little  force,  and  then  made  his 
escape.  Dale  at  once  saw  that  it  was  but  a  matter  of  a  few 
minutes  before  the  whole  Indian  force,  informed  of  the  weak 
ness  of  his  company,  would  be  upon  them. 

In  this  emergency  Dale  announced  a  desperate  resolution. 
He  called  for  volunteers  to  man  the  little  canoe  which  they  had, 
and  attack  the  Indian  canoe  party.  «For  this  perilous  attempt 
three  men,  James  Smith,  Jeremiah  Austill,  and  a  large  negro 
named  Csesar,  offered  their  sendees.  With  them  Dale  sprang 
into  the  canoe.  The  negro  acted  as  steersman,  while  the  white 
men  plied  the  paddles.  When  half-way  toward  the  hostile  canoe 
with  its  nine  occupants,  Dale's  men  found  to  their  dismay  that 
their  powder  was  wet  and  their  guns  useless. 

By  strange  fortune  the  Indians  in  the  canoe  had  exhausted 
their  ammunition.  There  remained  nothing  but  a  hand  to  hand 
fight  between  four  men  on  the  one  hand  and  nine  on  the  other. 
The  negro  threw  the  little  canoe  alongside  of  the  larger,  and 
held  it  firmly  there.  The  Indians  sprang  to  their  feet,  prepared 
with  knives  and  clubs  to  resist  the  assault.  At  the  moment  of 
contact  Dale  leaped  into  the  larger  canoe.  While  Austill  and 
Smith  beat  the  Indians  with  clubbed  guns,  Dale,  with  incon 
ceivable  quickness,  gave  the  one  nearest  him  a  powerful  shove, 
throwing  him  backwards  against  his  neighbor,  he  in  turn  falling 
upon  the  third  Indian,  and  so  on,  until  every  savage  in  the  boat 
had  lost  his  balance,  and  all  were  floundering  together  in  the 
bottom.  Dale  seized  the  advantage,  clubbing  out  the  brains  of 
savage  after  savage,  and  throwing  their  corpses  into  the  river. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE. 


641 


The  last  Indian  was  an  old  friend  of  Dale.  The  latter 
hesitated,  and  was  about  to  lower  his  weapon,  when  the 
savage  attempted  to  grapple  with  him.  Dale  was  too  quick. 
Stepping  back, 
with  a  single 
blow  he  killed 
his  antagonist. 
In  less  than 
two  minutes 
from  the  time 
the  boats  came 
alongside  of 
each  other 
every  one  of 
the  nine  In 
dians  was  a 
corpse,  floating 
down  with  the 
current  toward 
the  vast  and 
lonely  gulf.  Of 
the  white  men, 
Austill  alone 
was  wounded. 

With  swift 
strokes  of  the 
paddles  the 
two  canoes 
were  brought 
back  to  the 

shore,  the  remaining  men  taken  on  board,  and  an  escape  made 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  amid  a  heavy  fire  from  the 
Indians. 

On   the  23d   of  December,   1813,  Red   Eagle,  with  a  large 
force  of  Indians,  awaited  at  Holy  Ground  an  assault  from  Gen- 


RED  EAGLE'S  LEAP. 


642  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

eral  Claiborne.  The  spot  was  admirably  chosen  for  defense. 
It  was  a  high  bluff,  surrounded  on  the  land  side  by  marshes 
and  ravines,  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Alabama  River,  just 
below  what  is  now  Powell's  Ferry,  in  Lowndes  county,  Ala 
bama.  To  the  natural  strength  of  the  place  was  added  that  of 
heavy  log  fortifications. 

The  assault  by  the  Americans  was  a  comparative  failure, 
as  the  Indians  escaped  by  hundreds.  Red  Eagle,  the  last  to 
leave  the  place,  was  almost  on  the  point  of  being  captured. 
Mounted  on  a  gray  horse  of  magnificent  speed  and  endurance, 
he  galloped  rapidly  toward  a  point  where  the  bluff  was  but 
fifteen  feet  high.  Over  this  perpendicular  precipice  wildly 
dashed  the  gallant  rider  and  his  noble  steed.  They  both  dis 
appeared  beneath  the  waves  of  the  river,  but  in  a  few  moments 
Red  Eagle  was  seen,  far  out  in  the  current  of  the  river,  to  emerge 
from  the  depths,  still  on  his  horse  which  bravely  bore  him  to 
the  opposite  shore. 

During  the  time  of  the  incidents  which  we  have  been  relat 
ing,  General  Jackson  had  a  series  of  troubles  with  his  army, 
which  developed  the  incomparable  metal  of  the  man,  and  have 
been  admired  and  laughed  at  by  several  generations  of  men. 
While  detained  at  Fort  Strother,  a  mutinous  spirit  developed 
itself  among  the  men,  who,  on  account  of  the  lack  of  provisions, 
threatened  to  disband.  One  morning  Jackson  was  informed 
that  the  militia  regiment  intended  to  march  home  in  a  body. 
Jackson  at  once  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  volunteers 
and  confronted  the  militia,  telling  them  that  they  could  march 
home  only  by  cutting  their  way  through  his  lines.  This  was 
more  than  the  militia-men  had  counted  on.  They  yielded. 

But  the  volunteers  were  scarcely  less  discontented  than  the 
militia.  That  night  they  themselves  resolved  to  go  home.  In 
the  morning  Jackson  reversed  the  plan  of  the  previous  day.  He 
placed  the  militia  in  front  of  the  volunteers,  and  told  them  that 
their  way  home  lay  through  the  ranks.  The  joke  was  so  rich 
that,  for  the  time  being,  the  trouble  blew  over. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  643 

Great  was  the  distress  from  want  of  food.  A  soldier  passed 
General  Jackson  and  saw  that  he  was  eating  something.  He 
mutinously  demanded  that  he  should  have  a  share  of  it.  u  Will 
ingly,"  replied  Jackson,  and  thrusting  his  hand  into  his  pocket, 
offered  the  man  some  acorns.  For  some  days  they  had  been  his 
only  food. 

At  last,  however,  Jackson  was  left  without  any  supporters. 
The  entire  army  resolved  that,  if  provisions  did  not  come  within 
two  days,  they  would  go  home.  They,  however,  promised  that 
if  the  provision  train  was  met  they  would  return.  On  the 
appointed  day  the  men  marched  away.  Jackson  went  after 
them,  and  begged  for  volunteers  to  remain  with  him.  To  this 
appeal  one  hundred  and  nine  men  responded. 

Twelve  miles  from  the  fort  the  army  met  the  provision  train. 
The  men  were  furnished  ample  supplies  of  food.  But  with 
mouths  and  stomachs  full  of  meat  they  determined,  in  spite  of 
their  promise,  to  return  home.  Jackson's  rage  was  terrible.  His 
left  arm  was  still  in  a  sling.  He  was  more  emaciated  than  when 
he  had  left  his  sick-bed.  Snatching  a  musket  from  a  man,  he 
planted  himself  in  front  of  the  column  of  mutineers  and  broke 
forth  into  a  wild  storm  of  vituperation.  He  told  them  that  they 
could  march  home  only  over  his  dead  body,  and  that  the  man 
who  first  advanced  toward  him  should  be  shot  dead.  Raising 
his  gun  to  his  shoulder,  he  waited.  The  troops  who  would  have 
fought  an  army  were  conquered  by  the  will  of  a  single  man. 
The  mutineers  returned  to  their  camp. 

But  the  troops  shortly  devised  another  expedient.  Through 
a  pretended  flaw  in  their  contract  of  enlistment,  they  claimed 
that  their  term  had  expired.  On  the  afternoon  of  December 
9th,  they  commenced  strapping  up  their  knapsacks.  Jackson 
at  once  caMed  on  all  good  soldiers  to  assist  him.  The  militia 
were  drawn  up  behind  a  line  of  cannon  confronting  the  muti 
neers.  The  artillery-men  held  lighted  matches  in  their  hands. 
Jackson  then  addressed  his  rebellious  soldiery,  and  demanded 
from  them  an  explicit  answer,  whether  they  would  remain 


644  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

peaceably  with  the  army,  then,  and  there.  He  took  out  his 
watch  to  count  the  seconds  which  still  remained  for  the  men  to 
answer.  If  they  refused,  at  a  signal  the  cannon  and  musketry 
of  the  militia-line  would  leap  into  flame,  and  hurl  leaden  storms 
of  death  and  destruction  into  the  ranks  of  the  mutineers.  The 
latter  made  their  choice.  They  decided  to  remain.  A  fourth 
time  Jackson  had  won  a  battle  against  his  own  troops. 

At  last  Jackson  received  four  thousand  fresh  recruits  from 
Tennessee.  Red  Eagle  and  his  army  were  concentrated  in  a 
sort  of  peninsula,  called  the  Horseshoe,  formed  by  a  bend  of  the 
Tallapoosa  River.  The  bend  inclosed  a  hundred  acres  of  ground, 
and  at  its  narrowest  part  was  about  three  hundred  yards  wide. 
Across  this  narrow  place  Red  Eagle  had  constructed  a  strong 
fortification,  which  was  designed  to  resist  even  artillery-fire. 
Within  the  inclosure  the  houses  were  further  protected  by 
embankments  of  earth.  At  the  bank  of  the  river  floated  one 
hundred  canoes,  as  a  possible  means  of  retreat.  The  perfection 
of  these  preparations  have  caused  certain  writers  to  imagine 
that  some  white  engineer  had  planned  them.  In  fact,  they 
were  the  conceptions  of  Red  Eagle's  brain. 

On  the  27th  of  March,  1814,  Jackson  found  himself  in  front 
of  this  remarkable  redoubt  with  two  thousand  soldiers.  Gen 
eral  Coffee,  with  seven  hundred  cavalry  and  a  force  of  friendly 
Indians,  were  thrown  across  the  river  to  occupy  the  opposite 
side  of  the  bend  in  the  rear  of  the  fortification,  and  cut  off 
retreat.  By  ten  o'clock  Coffee  occupied  this  position.  Jack 
son  commenced  a  heavy  attack  with  artillery  and  musketry 
upon  the  front  of  the  breastworks,  making  but  little  impres 
sion.  Coffee,  without  especial  direction  from  his  commander, 
resolved  to  throw  a  part  of  his  men  across  the  river  in  canoes, 
and  by  attacking  the  Indians  in  the  rear,  effect  a  diversion  in 
favor  of  Jackson. 

After  an  hour  or  so  of  ineffectual  fighting,  Jackson  resolved 
to  storm  the  works.  The  men  were  formed  in  solid  column. 
This  column  was  a  projectile  which  was  expected  to  force  a 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE. 


645 


PLAN  OF   THE   BATTLE    OF    THE  HORSESHOE. 


breach  where  the  cannon  had  failed.  At  the  given  word  the 
long  line  of  men  started  forward  to  hurl  themselves  against 
the  fortification.  In  spite  of  the  heavy  fire  from  the  enemy, 
which  mowed  down  their  ranks,  the  Tennesseeans  hurried  for 
ward,  reached  the 
breastworks,  thrust 
their  rifles  into 
the  port-holes,  and 
fired  at  the  yelling 
savages  within,  or 
swarmed  up  and 
over  the  barricade. 
On  the  top  of  the 
breastworks  there 
was  many  a  fierce 
hand-to-hand  en 
counter — the  whites  fighting  to  force  their  way  into  the  fort, 
the  savages  struggling  to  hurl  them  back. 

In  a  short  time  the  number  of  Indians  upon  the  parapet  was 
seen  to  grow  fewer  and  fewer.  Every  time  an  Indian  fell  his 
place  was  taken  by  two  white  men.  Presently  Jackson's  troops 
began  to  leap  down  into  the  inclosure.  The  works  were  taken. 
But  the  defenders  of  the  place  were  not  conquered.  To  do  that 
there  was  only  one  way.  That  way  was  BUTCHERY.  It  was  a 
repetition  of  Tallushatchee.  No  savage  would  surrender.  Again 
and  again  Jackson  offered  quarter,  but  the  brave  Creeks  only 
riddled  the  messengers  with  bullets.  At  last,  Red  Eagle's  men, 
beaten  at  every  point,  fled  to  the  fleet  of  canoes  to  escape  by 
water.  Some  did  escape,  but  the  majority  fell  beneath  the 
unerring  fire  from  Coffee's  command.  One  old  Indian,  terribly 
wounded,  jumped  into  the  river,  caught  hold  of  a  root  in  the 
bottom  to  keep  himself  down,  and  by  breathing  through  the 
long  joint  of  a  cane,  one  end  of  which  was  in  his  mouth  and 
the  other  above  the  water,  remained  hidden  until  nightfall,  when 
he  rose  from  his  watery  bed  and  made  his  way  into  the  forest. 

36 


646  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

In  the  morning  sixteen  warriors  were  found  concealed  in  a 
brush  heap.  They  were  surrounded  by  two  hundred  men,  and 
called  upon  to  surrender.  They  not  only  refused,  but  made 
insulting  and  defiant  gestures.  Of  them,  it  might  be  said,  that 
they  were  killed,  but  not  conquered. 

Five  hundred  and  fifty-seven  dead  warriors  were  found  in 
the  fort.  Besides  this  uncounted  numbers  had  been  killed  in 
the  river.  The  power  of  the  Creek  nation  was  crushed. 

It  was  but  a  little  while  till  the  Creek  leaders  sent  their 
messengers  to  Jackson,  humbly  begging  for  peace.  To  these 
overtures  there  was  one  reply :  "  Bring  Red  Eagle  here,  bound 
hand  and  foot;  then  we  will  talk  of  peace."  It  was  Jackson's 
purpose  to  hang  the  Indian  commander  as  a  punishment  for  the 
massacre  of  Fort  Minis. 

Sad-faced  messengers  bore  the  dreadful  news  to  Red  Eagle. 
Peace  there  could  be  only  on  condition  of  the  sacrifice  of  his 
life.  His  friends  urged  him  to  leave  the  country.  To  all  such 
suggestions  Red  Eagle  made  no  reply,  but  simply  flashed  one 
look  of  indignation  from  his  proud  and  scornful  eye.  Many 
hours  he  sat  alone  in  his  wigwam,  lost  in  thought.  Sometimes 
he  would  walk  to  the  door  and  look  out  upon  the  landscape  with 
a  sigh.  Then  he  would  return  and  resume  his  reverie.  He  coun 
seled  with  no  one.  What  was  passing  in  his  mind  his  broken- 
spirited  followers  did  not  suspect.  He  neither  slept  nor  ate. 

At  last  Red  Eagle  seemed  to  have  come  to  some  conclusion. 
Long  before  dawn  one  morning,  without  vouchsafing  a  single 
explanation,  he  mounted  his  splendid  gray  horse,  and  rode  away 
through  the  forest  in  solitude  and  silence.  An  observer  might 
have  seen  his  lips  tightly  compressed.  From  his  eye  shone  a 
strange  light.  He  alone  knew  his  destination. 

He  took  his  course  toward  the  camp  of  Andrew  Jackson. 
When  within  a  few  miles  of  the  camp,  a  noble  deer  bounded 
across  his  path.  Quick  as  thought  Red  Eagle  fired,  bringing 
down  the  game.  He  then  reloaded  his  rifle.  That  load  was 
for  the  heart  of  Big  Warrior,  in  case  he  should  offer  any  insult 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  RED  EAGLE.  647 

to  Red  Eagle  in  the  American  camp.  Laying  the  deer  behind 
him  on  his  horse,  he  rode  on.  He  came  within  sight  of  an 
American  sentinel,  and  calmly  inquired  for  General  Jackson's 
head-quarters.  He  rode  up  to  the  door  of  the  tent  pointed  out 
to  him.  Andrew  Jackson  came  forward,  and  in  a  spasm  of  rage 
demanded  of  him  how  he  dared  to  approach  him  when  such  a 
penalty  hung  over  him.  To  this  Red  Eagle  replied  : 

"  General  Jackson,  I  am  afraid  of  no  man.  I  am  a  Creek 
warrior.  For  myself  I  ask  no  favor.  I  come  to  beg  mercy  for 
the  women  and  children  of  my  people,  who  are  now  starving  in 
the  woods  without  an  ear  of  corn.  You  may  kill  me  if  you 
wish.  I  am  done  fighting.  Of  my  warriors  but  a  few  live. 
The  rest  have  been  killed.  If  I  could  fight  you  longer  I  would, 
but  save  the  women  and  children.  They  have  never  harmed 
you.  As  for  me,  do  with  me  as  you  please." 

These  words  were  delivered  with  a  pathos  and  eloquence 
which  can  not  be  described.  A  crowd  had  gathered  around  to 
witness  the  strange  scene.  As  once  before  in  history,  here  was 
a  man  found  willing  to  die  for  his  people.  And  as  on  that  other 
occasion,  from  which  over  the  centuries  there  comes  floating  to 
our  ears  the  cries  of  the  mob,  "Crucify  him,  crucify  him,"  so 
here  the  crowd  broke  out  into  loud  cries  of  "  Kill  him,  kill  him." 

The  hero  recognizes  the  hero.  There  is  an  affinity  between 
high-born  souls.  Andrew  Jackson  rebuked  the  crowd.  He 
invited  his  distinguished  prisoner  into  his  quarters.  After  a 
conversation,  Jackson  repeated  the  terms  of  peace  which  had 
been  offered,  and  then  said.  "You  are  at  liberty  to  leave  if 
you  wish.  No  opposition  shall  be  made.  But  if  I  capture 
you  hereafter,  you  will  be  hung."  To  this  Red  Eagle  replied 
with  burning  words.  He  said  that  he  accepted  the  terms  of 
peace.  That  no  matter  what  fate  awaited  himself,  his  people 
would  at  least  be  made  happier  by  it. 

The  war  was  ended,  but  Red  Eagle  was  not  hung.  Andrew 
Jackson,  instead  of  offering  him  punishment  afforded  him  pro 
tection.  His  life  was  saved  from  the  conspiracies  of  the  friendly 


648  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Indians  in  Jackson's  camp  by  the  very  guards  with  which  his 
captor  had  surrounded  him.  In  time  he  was  left  free  to  return 
to  his  old  home  and  plantation.  But  there  he  found  himself 
surrounded  by  hosts  of  implacable  enemies,  who  sought  his  life. 
He  went  to  Fort  Claiborne,  and  placed  himself  under  the  pro 
tection  of  the  commanding  officer.  But  here,  too,  were  men  in 
whose  breasts  rankled  the  poisoned  stings  of  civil  war.  He  was 
obliged  to  leave  the  fort  at  night  and  in  secret.  He  made  his 
way  to  Jackson's  camp,  and  in  time  was  taken  by  the  American 
general  to  his  home  in  Tennessee,  where  he  remained  as  a  guest 
for  nearly  a  year. 

As  time  rolled  on  the  hostilites  of  war  died  away.  Red 
Eagle  returned  to  his  plantation.  Again  he  accumulated  prop 
erty,  again  he  was  waited  on  by  troops  of  slaves,  and  dispensed 
magnificent  hospitality  to  his  friends.  His  spirit  was  unbroken 
by  misfortune,  and  his  commanding  genius  again  asserted  itself 
in  the  councils  of  the  Creeks.  He  died  at  his  home  on  the  9th 
of  March,  1824.  Through  the  intermarriage  of  his  children 
with  the  whites  Red  Eagle's  descendants  show  few  traces  of 
their  Indian  blood.  The  dark  eye,  the  erect  form,  and  perhaps 
a  slight  tinge  in  the  cheek  are  all  that  remain  as  badges  of 
their  noble  lineage. 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  649 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   TRUE    STORY    OF    THE    PROPHET. 

N  1805,  Penagashega,  or  "The  Change  of 
Feathers,"  the  prophet  of  the  Shawanese  tribe 
was  gathered  to  his  fathers.  As  soon  as  the 
news  of  the  great  prophet's  death  reached  a 
certain  Shawanese  Indian  by  the  name  of  Lau- 
lewasickaw,  the  latter  rolled  his  eyes  piously 
towards  heaven  and  fell  on  his  face.  How  long 
he  remained  in  this  position  we  know  not,  but 
when  he  arose  his  actions  were  singular  in  the  extreme.  He 
shunned  his  former  companions,  bearing  an  important  and 
mysterious  air,  the  very  personification  of  solemnity.  He 
proceeded  to  engage  in  long  and  severe  fasts.  He  resorted 
to  hollow  trees  and  desolate  caverns,  and  there  kept  up  pro 
tracted  vigils. 

At  last,  tired  of  this  sort  of  thing  or  having  continued  it 
long  enough  to  suit  his  purposes,  he  returned  to  his  village, 
and  with  mock  humility  and  a  dramatic  display  of  great  piety, 
announced  that  the  spirit  of  prophecy  had  entered  into  him, 
and  that  he  would  no  longer  be  known  as  Penagashega,  but  as 
Tenshacutawan.  This  startling  announcement  certainly  so  over 
whelms  the  reader  with  astonishment  and  admiration,  that  we 
at  once  hurry  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  thus  aroused  by  an  expla 
nation  of  the  causes  and  meaning  of  this  move  on  the  part 
of  our  friend,  whom  we  will  henceforth  know  simply  as  "  The 
Prophet." 

According  to  his  own  story,  the  Prophet  was  descended  from 


650  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  great  Creek  warrior,  his  grandfather.  On  a  certain  occasion,, 
this  esteemed  ancestor,  then  a  young  and  handsome  man,  had 
left  the  villages  of  his  tribe,  and  gone  with  the  leading  men 
to  the  city  of  Charleston  to  hold  a  council  with  the  English 
governor. 

At  some  of  the  interviews  which  took  place,  the  governor's 
daughter,  a  young  lady  of  great  beauty  and  spirit,  contrived  to 
be  present.  She  had  conceived  a  violent  admiration  for  the 
Indian  character,  and  had  determined  to  bestow  herself  upon  some 
lord  of  the  forest.  She  took  occasion  one  evening  to  inform  her 
father  of  this  wish,  and  begged  him  to  select  for  her  a  suitable 
husband  from  the  noble  array  of  chiefs  then  in  Charleston. 
Ridicule,  argument,  entreaties,  and  tears  were  of  no  avail  to 
shake  the  resolute  girl  in  her  purpose. 

On  the  following  morning,  the  governor,  pale  from  loss  of 
sleep,  inquired  of  the  Indians  which  of  their  number  was  the 
most  expert  hunter.  Of  course  the  entire  company  pointed  out 
the  modest  young  warrior  who  was  destined  to  become  the 
grandfather  of  the  Prophet,  and  to  hand  down  to  his  descend 
ant  that  characteristic  modesty  which  was  so  conspicuously 
absent  from  the  latter.  After  further  interviews  with  his 
daughter,  the  governor  announced  to  the  council  of  Creeks  that 
his  daughter  was  disposed  to  marry  one  of  their  number.  Sig 
nificantly  pointing  toward  the  illustrious  individual  of  whom 
we  have  spoken,  he  announced  that  his  own  consent  was 
already  given. 

The  chiefs  were  naturally  incredulous.  Their  doubts,  how 
ever,  were  dispelled  by  the  earnestness  of  the  governor  and  the 
evident  anxiety  of  the  young  lady.  Satisfied  on  this  point,  the 
Creeks  at  once  began  to  labor  with  the  young  chief.  Their 
arguments,  re-enforced  by  his  native  gallantry,  soon  won  the 
day,  and  the  young  warrior  announced  his  satisfaction  with  the 
arrangement,  and  proceeded  to  give  the  young  lady  a  hearty 
embrace,  to  which  she  seemed  perfectly  agreeable.  He  was 
immediately  conducted  to  another  apartment,  where  he 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  651 

disrobed  of  the  Indian  costume  by  a  train  of  black  servants 
and  clad  in  a  new  suit.  The  marriage  ceremony  was  at  once 
performed. 

The  Creeks  returned  to  their  homes,  but  the  young  warrior 
remained  in  Charleston  with  his  wife.  In  time  there  were  born 
to  him  two  (laughters  and  a  son.  At  the  birth  of  the  latter, 
the  old  governor  caused  a  round  of  thirty  guns  to  be  fired.  At 
the  age  of  eight  years,  the  boy's  father  died,  and  he  was  taken 
charge  of  by  the  governor.  The  Creeks  frequently  visited  him, 
and  he  in  turn  from  time  to  time  was  permitted  to  make  long 
stays  among  the  people  of  his  father.  Gradually,  he  adopted 
their  dress,  customs,  and  language.  There  came  a  time  when 
he  refused  to  return  to  the  whites,  and  ever  afterward  lived 
among  the  Indians.  "This,"  says  the  Prophet,  "was  my  father." 

However  truly  our  friend  the  Prophet  foretold  the  future,  it 
is  certain  that  he  lied  about  the  past.  His  father  and  mother 
were,  in  all  probability,  of  the  purest  Shawanese  blood.  This 
tribe  was  the  most  restless  of  all  the  American  Indians.  Tra 
dition  says  that  they  are  the  descendants  of  the  famous  Eries. 
At  different  times  we  find  them  living  on  the  Susquehanna 
Elver;  at  the  Suwanee  River  in  Florida,  giving  their  name  to 
it ;  on  the  Cumberland,  in  Kentucky ;  in  the  Wyoming  valley, 
in  Pennsylvania,  and  on  the  Wabash  in  Indiana.  The  Proph 
et's  family  removed  from  Florida  to  the  north  side  of  the  Ohio 
River  about  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  Prophet  was  the  youngest  of  six  sons.  He  passed  his 
boyhood  like  any  other  young  Indian,  in  the  wigwams  and 
hunting-grounds  of  his  people.  He  was  more  distinguished  for 
intrigue  and  craft  than  for  skill  as  a  hunter  or  bravery  as  a 
warrior.  He  was  a  great  braggart,  telling  no  end  of  yarns  of 
his  great  achievements.  Possessing  a  shrewd  insight  into  char 
acter,  and  never  missing  an  opportunity  to  impress  upon  his 
people  his  vast  importance  and  ability,  he,  in  spite  of  his  lazi 
ness  and  natural  cowardice,  managed  to  maintain  a  fairly  cred 
itable  position  in  his  tribe.  But  for  his  older  brother,  or  as  some 


652 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


will  have  it  his  twin,  known  everywhere  as  TECUMSEH,  or  The 
Shooting  Star,  he  would  probably  have  remained  in  obscurity. 
Tecumseh  was  born  about  1768,  after  his  parents  had  re 
moved  to  Ohio.  His  father's  death  occurring  when  he  was  but 
six  years  old,  he  was  placed  under  the  charge  of  his  eldest 

brother,  Cheeseekau.  The  lat 
ter  was  a  brave  man,  of  noble 
character.  His  chief  occupa 
tion  and  care  was  the  proper 
training  of  the  young  Tecum 
seh,  who  was  early  recognized 
as  the  hope  of  the  family.  It 
was  Cheeseekau  who  taught 
the  fatherless  boy  to  hunt,  who 
led  him  to  battle,  who  in 
structed  him  in  all  the  ath 
letic  exercises,  and  who,  by 
constant  and  zealous  labor, 
imbued  his  mind  with  a  love 
TECUMSEH.  for  truth,  a  ready  generosity, 

a  manly  courage  in  battle,  and  a  dignified  fortitude  in  suffering. 
It  was  Cheeseekau  who  taught  him,  while  but  a  boy,  to  use 
the  bow  and  arrow  with  a  skill  which  far  exceeded  that  pos 
sessed  by  any  other  Indian  boy  of  the  tribe.  It  was  this  same 
elder  brother  who  drilled  him  in  the  art  of  eloquence,  and  who 
wrought  into  his  mind  the  idea  which  afterwards  became  the 
inspiration  of  the  great  chieftain — the  idea  of  the  salvation  of 
his  people  from  the  white  man. 

There  were  other  children  of  this  interesting  family.  Of 
these  we  have  time  to  mention  only  Tecumseh's  sister,  Tecuma- 
pease.  She  was  sensible,  kind-hearted,  and  intelligent.  Between 
her  and  her  brother  there  existed  the  warmest  affection.  She 
was  always  his  favorite.  The  first  fruits  of  the  chase  belonged 
to  Tecumapease.  The  choicest  presents  of  the  white  man  to 
Tecumseh  became  trophies  for  his  sister. 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  653 

Educated  by  the  care  of  his  elder  brother,  and  cherished  by 
the  affection  of  a  noble  sister,  Tecumseh  grew  to  manhood.  His 
ruling  passion,  even  in  his  earlier  years,  is  said  to  have  been 
war.  Among  his  companions  he  was  easily  the  leader.  Mimic 
combats  and  sham  battles  were  his  favorite  sports.  While  his 
brother,  the  Prophet,  remained  at  home  engaged  in  idle  and  dis 
reputable  intrigues,  Tecumseh  followed  the  hunters  in  their 
chase  and  the  war-parties  on  their  way  to  battle. 

As  may  be  imagined,  the  Indian  warfare  which  raged  during 
all  his  earlier  years  made  a  profound  impression  on  his  mind. 
In  childhood  he  sat  around  the  camp-fires,  and  with  earnest  look 
and  fascinated  attention  heard  the  stories  of  the  Indian  conflicts 
of  the  Revolutionary  War.  The  battle  of  Point  Pleasant,  the 
murder  of  Cornstalk,  the  siege  of  Wheeling,  the  innumerable 
combats  which  took  place  around  the  block-houses  of  Kentucky, 
and  along  the  course  of  the  Ohio,  the  genius  of  Brant,  the  mas 
sacre  of  the  Moravian  Indians,  the  terrible  defeat  of  Crawford — 
these  were  the  things  which  formed  the  subjects  of  excited  dis 
cussions  around  the  camp-fires,  where  were  faithfully  reported, 
with  vivid  description  and  animated  gesture,  the  details  of  every 
combat.  These  were  the  things  upon  which  the  youthful  imag 
ination  of  Tecumseh  was  nourished. 

In  his  lonely  chase  he  revolved  in  his  mind  the  things  which 
he  had  heard.  With  clenched  fist  and  determined  countenance, 
he  brooded  over  the  wrongs  of  the  white  man  to  his  people. 
There  came  to  him,  too,  stories  of  the  great  Pontiac  and  his 
wonderful  conspiracy — the  plan  a  ruin,  and  its  creator  an  out 
cast  before  Tecumseh  had  drawn  the  breath  of  life. 

The  years  passed  by,  and  the  terrible  warfare  with  the  white 
man  raged  without  abatement.  In  this,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
Tecumseh  took  a  part.  He  is  said  to  have  fled  in  fright  during 
the  first  battle  at  which  he  was  present.  The  same  story  is 
related  of  Frederick  the  Great.  Certain  it  is  that  Tecumseh 
never  again  was  guilty  of  any  such  weakness.  At  another  time 
he  participated  in  an  attack  on  a  boat  descending  the  Ohio  River. 


654  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

After  the  battle  a  captive  was  burned  to  death.  Tecumseh 
had  never  seen  any  thing  of  the  kind  before.  He  broke  forth 
into  a  storm  of  denunciation  at  the  fiendish  practice.  From 
that  time  forth  no  prisoners  were  buriied  by  any  war  party  of 
which  Tecumseh  was  a  member. 

When  he  was  nineteen  years  of  age  Tecumseh  and  Cheesee- 
kau  took  a  long  journey  to  the  south.  This  the  elder  brother 
believed  would  tend  to  enlarge  the  understanding  of  his  pupil, 
and  enrich  his  expanding  mind  with  general  ideas.  Their  trav 
els  reached  as  far  as  the  Creek  country.  There  they  found  the 
Cherokees  engaged  in  a  war  with  the  whites. 

The  two  brothers  from  the  hunting  grounds  of  the  north  at 
once  enlisted  in  the  struggle.  In  an  attack  on  a  certain  fort 
Cheeseekau  led  the  charge.  Just  before  the  attack  he  told  his 
followers  that  in  the  conflict  he  would  be  shot  in  the  forehead 
and  killed.  The  thing  turned  out  as  he  had  prophesied.  He 
fell,  pierced  by  a  bullet  midway  between  the  eyes.  As  he  sank, 
mortally  wounded,  upon  the  battle-field,  he  exclaimed  with  his 
expiring  breath,  "Happy  am  I  to  thus  fall  in  battle,  and  not 
die  in  a  wigwam  like  an  old  squaw."  The  Indians,  panic- 
stricken  at  the  fall  of  their  leader,  as  well  as  at  the  fulfillment 
of  the  prophecy,  fled  in  all  directions. 

Tecumseh  seems  to  have  suddenly  become  a  man.  The 
death  of  his  brother  threw  him  at  once  on  his  own  resources. 
The  band  of  warriors  who  had  followed  Cheeseekau  all  the  way 
from  the  north,  chose  Tecumseh  as  their  leader.  To  show  him 
self  worthy  of  this  honor  Tecumseh  took  ten  men  and  went  to 
the  nearest  white  settlement,  attacked  and  killed  all  the  men, 
and  took  the  women  and  children  prisoners.  He  remained  two 
years  in  the  south,  learning  many  languages,  and  becoming 
acquainted  with  many  chiefs.  During  most  of  this  time  he  was 
engaged  in  the  warfare  with  the  white  man.  No  expedition  or 
foray  was  thought  complete  without  Tecumseh.  His  military 
genius  won  him  great  renown.  One  night  Tecumseh,  with  a 
dozen  warriors,  was  encamped  on  the  Alabama  River.  All  of 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  655 

the  men  had  lain  down  for  the  night  except  Tecumseh,  who 
was  dressing  some  meat  by  the  fire.  At  that  moment  the  camp 
was  attacked  by  thirty  white  men.  With  a  shrill  cry  Tecumseh 
roused  every  warrior  to  his  feet.  Their  leader  at  their  head, 
the  Indians  rushed  furiously  toward  a  certain  point  in  the  cir 
cle  formed  by  their  foes.  Two  white  men  were  killed  outright, 
and  the  others,  giving  way  before  the  impetuous  charge,  suffered 
Tecumseh  and  his  band  to  break  through,  and  make  their  way 
to  their  boats. 

At  the  end  of  two  years  the  young  Tecumseh,  now  renowned 
for  his  martial  feats,  returned  to  his  own  people.  He  arrived 
in  time  to  take  part  in  the  defeat  of  General  St.  Clair.  In  the 
war  during  1794,  when  General  Wayne  led  his  triumphant  expe 
dition  into  the  heart  of  the  Indian  country,  Tecumseh  became 
quite  prominent  for  a  young  chief.  He  joined  in  an  Indian 
attack  on  Fort  Recovery.  Ninety  riflemen  and  fifty  dragoons, 
having  just  escorted  a  supply  train  to  the  fort,  were  returning 
to  the  main  army.  Upon  these  the  Indians  precipitated  them 
selves  with  great  fury.  Numbers  of  the  white  men  were  killed, 
and  the  rest  fled  toward  the  fort,  and  many  succeeded  in  reach 
ing  it.  The  Indians  then  attacked  the  fort,  but  after  two  days 
withdrew  without  having  effected  their  object. 

Tecumseh  was  also  present  at  the  battle  of  Fallen  Timbers, 
a  name  which  it  took  from  the  fact  that  the  battle-field  was 
covered  with  fallen  forest  trees,  wrecked  by  some  tornado. 
All  the  world  knows  that  in  this  battle  Mad  Anthony  Wayne 
crushed  the  Indian  powers  of  the  Ohio  valley.  One  incident 
shows  that  Tecumseh  was  still  young.  In  the  excitement  of 
the  fray  he  rammed  a  bullet  into  his  gun  without  first  inserting 
a  charge  of  powder,  thus  losing  the  use  of  the  weapon.  Driven 
to  the  rear  by  the  advancing  enemy,  he  obtained  a  fowling-piece, 
which  he  used  with  considerable  effect.  As  the  Indians  began 
to  fly  he  exerted  all  his  influence  and  every  effort  to  rally  them, 
and  twice  succeeded  in  making  a  stand  with  a  handful  of  Shaw- 
anese.  At  last  he,  with  the  others,  was  compelled  to  retreat. 


656  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Tecumseh  did  not  attend  the  peace  council  at  Greenville. 
He  remained  at  home  in  his  wigwam,  sullen  and  angry.  In  the 
following  year  he  gathered  about  him  a  band  of  followers,  call 
ing  himself  its  chief.  This  new  tribe  was  migratory,  like  all 
the  Shawanese.  One  crop  of  corn  was  raised  on  the  shores  of 
the  great  Miami,  another  was  raised  near  the  Whitewater  River. 
In  1798,  the  Dela  wares,  residing  on  White  River,  in  Indiana, 
invited  Tecumseh  and  his  tribe  to  come  and  dwell  with  them. 
This  invitation  was  accepted,  and  for  several  years  Tecumseh 
kept  his  head-quarters  at  that  place. 

Numberless  incidents  are  related  of  Tecumseh  about  this 
time.  He  was  a  great  hunter,  partly  as  a  matter  of  sport, 
and  partly  because  it  enabled  him  to  give  the  highly  prized 
venison  to  the  sick  and  poor  of  his  tribe.  One  day  a  crowd  of 
young  Shawanese  wagered  him  that  each  of  them  could  kill 
as  many  deer  in  a  three  days'  hunt  as  he.  Tecumseh  quietly 
accepted  the  challenge,  and  the  hunters  made  their  preparations 
that  evening  for  a  start  before  daylight.  The  three  days  ran 
by,  and  the  crowd  of  boasters  once  more  assembled  around  the 
camp-fire  of  their  village.  The  largest  number  of  deer-skins 
brought  in  by  any  one  brave  was  twelve.  Tecumseh  brought 
with  him  thirty. 

In  1803,  Captain  Herrod,  who  lived  sixteen  miles  north-west 
of  Chillicothe,  while  felling  a  tree  in  the  forest,  was  shot  by  an 
unknown  foe.  Herrod  was  greatly  beloved,  and  the  whole 
valley  of  the  Scioto  was  thrown  into  a  panic.  Bands  of  white 
men,  suspecting  the  murder  to  have  been  the  work  of  an  Indian, 
organized  for  revenge.  Wawillaway,  an  old  Shawanese  chief, 
and  a  great  friend  of  the  whites,  was  returning  from  one  of  the 
settlements  where  he  had  been  trading  his  skins.  At  a  spot  in 
the  forest,  near  the  cabin  of  a  hunter  named  Wolf,  Wawillaway, 
a  brave  and  intelligent  Indian,  and  much  respected  by  the 
whites,  was  confronted  by  Wolf  and  his  hired  man.  The  Indian 
shook  hands  with  the  men  cordially,  and  was  greeted  in  the 
same  manner.  The  trio  smoked  the  peace  pipe,  and,  violence  on 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  659 

either  side  seemed  not  to  be  thought  of.  After  a  while  Wolf 
proposed  that  they  trade  guns.  While  examining  the  Indian's 
weapon,  the  white  man  secretly  removed  the  priming  and  then 
handed  it  back,  saying  he  would  not  trade.  Wolf's  manner 
then  changed,  and  he  asked  Wawillaway  if  the  Indians  had 
begun  war.  "  No,  no,"  said  the  chief,  "  the  Indians  and  white 
men  are  now  all  brothers."  The  conversation  then  turned  on 
the  murder  of  Herrod,  of  which  Wawillaway  had  not  heard. 
Wolf  charged  that  it  was  the  work  of  the  Indians.  The  chief 
replied  that  he  might  have  been  killed  by  some  white  enemy. 
He  then  shook  hands,  and  turned  to  go,  when  Wolf  fired  from 
behind,  inflicting  a  mortal  wound.  The  brave  Shawanese  turned 
upon  his  assailants,  killed  one,  and  wounded  the  other.  Ex 
hausted  by  his  efforts,  and  mortally  wounded,  he  fell  dead. 

This  occurrence  operated  to  inflame  the  whole  country,  and 
a  frontier  war  seemed  imminent.  A  company  of  prominent 
citizens,  in  the  hope  of  quieting  matters,  rode  to  Green  viller 
Ohio,  in  the  Indian  country,  where  they  found  Tecumseh  with 
a  large  body  of  Indian^.  A  council  was  held,  and  the  whites 
candidly  related  all  the  circumstances  connected  with  the  mur 
der  of  Wawillaway.  After  some  hesitation,  the  Indians  accepted 
the  explanation,  and  declared  their  intention  of  abiding  by  the 
treaty  of  Greenville.  This,  however,  was  not  enough.  Tecum 
seh  agreed  to  go  to  Chillicothe  and  exert  his  influence  in  behalf 
of  peace.  In  the  council  held  at  that  place  Tecumseh  fulfilled 
his  promise  in  a  speech  of  great  power  and  eloquence,  which 
effectually  quieted  the  disturbance. 

One  incident  connected  with  the  murder  of  Wawillaway 
deserves  mention.  His  two  sons  vowed  vengeance  <upon  Wolf. 
The  latter  fled  to  Kentucky,  and  employed  an  agent  to  nego 
tiate  with  his  enemies.  After  much  debate  and  delay,  the  two 
Indians  agreed,  for  the  consideration  of  a  horse  and  a  new 
saddle,  bridle,  and  gun  apiece,  to  bury  the  hatchet.  On  an 
appointed  day,  the  settlers  from  far  and  near  came  together  to 
witness  the  fulfillment  of  this  contract.  In  the  midst  of  a 


660  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

hollow  square  stood  Wolf,  with  his  horses  and  their  trappings. 
Opposite  him  stood  the  two  young  Indians.  The  latter  lifted 
their  hands  toward  heaven,  calling  on  the  Great  Spirit  to  avenge 
the  wrong  which  they  had  suffered,  and  at  the  same  time  to  wit 
ness  the  sincerity  of  their  forgiveness  of  their  father's  murderer. 
They  took  Wolf  by  the  hand,  and  the  three  sat  down  together 
to  smoke  the  calumet  of  peace.  The  two  parties  to  this  singular 
contract  were  good  friends  ever  afterward. 

It  is  to  another  class  of  events,  however,  that  we  must  look 
to  get  glimpses  of  the  motives  and  ideas  of  Tecnmseh's  interior 
life  at  this  time.  The  early  tendency  of  his  mind  to  dwell  upon 
the  wrongs  of  the  white  man  against  his  race  expressed  itself  in 
a  long  study  of  the  problem  as  to  how  the  ruin  of  the  red  man 
and  his  impending  extinction  might  be  averted.  Tecumseh  did 
not  talk  much.  He  kept  himself  in  the  background.  While 
the  records  of  these  years  abound  with  the  names  of  Blue 
Jacket,  The  Owl,  and  Turkey  Foot,  that  of  Tecumseh  is  not 
mentioned.  There  is  evidence  to  show  that  his  mind  was 
actively  employed  on  the  great  subject  which  we  have  mentioned. 

Things  were  constantly  occurring  to  give  him  food  for 
thought.  The  Indian  wars  were  over,  but  the  outrages  and 
wrongs  continued.  In  1801  William  Henry  Harrison  was 
appointed  governor  of  that  portion  of  the  North-west  Territory 
known  as  Indiana.  At  the  very  first  talk  which  the  new  gov 
ernor  had  with  his  Indian  constituency,  the  latter  had  no  less 
than  six  murders  by  white  men  to  complain  of,  the  murderers 
having  gone  "unwhipt  of  justice."  One  of  the  cases  bore  heav 
ily  upon  the  minds  of  the  Indians.  Two  warriors,  a  squaw,  and 
some  children  had  been  hunting  on  Blue  River,  when  their 
camp  was  discovered  by  three  white  men,  who  approached  as 
friends,  and  were  hospitably  entertained.  At  an  opportune 
moment  the  villainous  visitors  had  murdered  the  whole  party 
of  Indians,  made  off  with  their  property,  and  boasted  of  their 
feat  in  the  white  settlements  without  fear  of  punishment. 

The  able  and  interesting  communications  of  Governor  Harri- 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.         661 

son  are  full  of  details  as  to  the  irritation  between  the  whites 
and  the  Indians.  Besides  these  open  outrages,  the  poor  Indians 
suffered  in  many  ways.  Six  thousand  gallons  of  whisky  were 
sold  each  year  to  the  Indians  upon  the  Wabash,  who  scarcely 
numbered  six  hundred  warriors.  "  Every  horror  is  produced," 
says  Governor  Harrison,  "among  these  unhappy  people  by  their 
intercourse  with  the  whites.  This  is  so  certain  that  I  can  at 
once  tell,  upon  looking  at  an  Indian  whom  I  chance  to  meet, 
whether  he  belongs  to  a  neighboring  or  more  distant  tribe.  The 
latter  is  generally  well  clothed,  healthy,  and  vigorous,  the  for 
mer  half  naked,  filthy,  and  enfeebled  by  intoxication ;  and  many 
of  them  without  arms,  excepting  a  knife,  which  they  carry  for 
the  most  villainous  purposes." 

Among  the  many  murders  committed  was  one  at  a  tavern, 
where  a  white  man  and  an  Indian,  who  were  drinking  together, 
got  into  a  quarrel.  Another  white  man  took  the  Indian  away 
to  a  distant  house  to  keep  him  till  he  sobered  off.  The  man 
with  whom  he  had  quarreled  procured  a  cudgel,  proceeded  to 
the  house,  forced  open  the  door  of  the  room  where  the  Indian 
lay,  and  beat  him  to  death  with  a  club.  The  murderer  was 
arrested,  tried,  made  no  attempt  at  defense,  and  yet  the  jury 
of  white  men,  although  the  facts  of  the  murder  were  proved 
without  contradiction  or  question,  brought  in  a  verdict  in  five 
minutes  of  "not  guilty,"  simply  on  the  ground  that  the  victim 
was  an  Indian. 

It  is  not  to  be  forgotten  that  agents  of  the  British  Gov 
ernment  continually  circulated  among  the  Indians,  promising 
help  from  England  in  case  they  would  make  war  upon  the 
whites.  This  was  also  an  important  factor  in  the  problem 
which  was  being  worked  out  by  Tecumseh.  From  childhood 
he  had  been  taught  to  regard  the  great  Pontiac  as  the  fore 
most  of  all  the  Indian  leaders  of  the  past,  and  he  did  not  fail 
to  see  that  as  Pontiac's  scheme  hinged  upon  the  assistance  of 
France,  so  his  own  plans  might  be  confidently  formed  with 
regard  to  help  from  England. 


662  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  assumption  of  prophetic  powers  by  Tecumseh's  brother, 
the  Prophet,  in  1805,  was  in  some  way  intimately  connected 
with  Tecumseh's  plans.  The  chief,  assisted  by  the  smaller  cun 
ning  of  his  brother,  and  thoroughly  understanding  the  Indian 
character,  saw  that  for  the  purpose  of  laying  hold  of  the  hearts 
and  minds  of  the  Indians;  of  uniting  scattered  and  broken  tribes 
in  the  execution  of  a  single  great  enterprise ;  of  the  revival  of 
the  spirit  of  his  people,  among  whom  the  effects  of  Wayne's 
victory  in  the  battle  of  Fallen  Timbers  were  still  painfully  man 
ifest,  and  of  the  rallying  of  a  wide  and  enthusiastic  following, 
the  Indians  could  be  approached  in  no  way  so  successfully 
as  through  their  superstitions.  Speaking  strictly,  Tec-umseh's 
brother  was  an  Indian  Mohammed. 

So  the  Prophet  changed  his  name.  He  preached  that  he 
was  the  Anointed  of  the  Great  Spirit  to  reform  the  manners  of 
the  red  men.  All  the  innovations  in  dress  and  habits  which 
they  had  learned  from  the  white  men  must  be  abandoned.  Call 
ing  together  a  large  assembly  in  northern  Ohio  of  Indians  from 
many  tribes,  he,  in  the  presence  of  this  company,  made  an  offi 
cial  announcement  of  his  doctrines.  He  denounced  witchcraft 
and  drunkenness.  He  said  that  he  had  been  carried  up  into 
the  clouds,  and  had  been  shown  the  dwelling-place  of  the  devil. 
Here  he  had  seen  the  multitudes  of  those  who  had  died  drunk 
ards  in  their  eternal  home.  From  the  mouth  of  every  one  of 
them  proceeded  flames  of  fire. 

When  he  was  questioned  as  to  whether  he  was  not  a  drunk 
ard  himself,  he  admitted  the  truth,  but  said  that  the  fright  from 
his  vision  prevented  him  from  drinking  any  more.  He  attacked 
the  practice  of  Indian  women  marrying  white  men,  and  also 
the  growing  tendency  toward  individual  property.  He  pro 
claimed  celestial  rewards  for  all  who  would  become  his  follow 
ers,  and  boldly  laid  claim  to  the  power  of  foretelling  future 
events,  curing  sickness,  preventing  death  on  the  battle-field,  and 
working  all  sorts  of  miracles. 

The   Prophet  was  a  first-rate  orator,  though  wanting  in  the 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  663 

courage  and  truthfulness  of  his  brother.  President  Jefferson 
wrote  of  him  as  follows  : 

"  The  Wabash  Prophet  is  more  rogue  than  fool,  if  to  be  a 
rogue  is  not  the  greatest  of  all  follies.  He  rose  to  notice  while 
I  was  in  the  administration,  and  became  of  course  a  proper 
subject  for  me.  The  inquiry  was  made  with  diligence.  His 
declared  object  was  the  reformation  of  his  red  brethren  and 
their  return  to  their  pristine  manners  of  living.  He  pretended 
to  be  in  constant  communication  with  the  Great  Spirit;  that  he 
was  instructed  by  him  to  make  known  to  the  Indians  that  they 
were  created  by  him,  distinct  from  the  whites,  of  different 
natures,  for  different  purposes,  and  placed  under  different  cir 
cumstances  adapted  to  their  nature  and  destinies ;  that  they 
must  return  from  all  the  ways  of  the  whites  to  the  habits  and 
opinions  of  their  forefathers ;  they  must  not  eat  the  flesh  of 
hogs,  of  bullocks,  of  sheep,  etc.,  the  deer  and  the  buffalo  having 
been  created  for  their  food.  They  must  not  bake  bread  of 
wheat,  but  of  Indian  corn;  they  must  not  wear  linen  nor 
woolen,  but  must  dress  like  their  fathers,  in  the  skins  and  furs 
of  animals ;  they  must  not  drink  ardent  spirits,  and  I  do  not 
remember  whether  he  extended  his  inhibitions  to  the  gun  and 
gunpowder  in  favor  of  the  bow  and  arrow. 

"I  concluded  from  all  this  that  he  was  a  visionary,  envel 
oped  in  their  antiquities,  and  vainly  endeavoring  to  lead  back 
his  brethren  to  the  fancied  beatitudes  of  their  golden  age.  I 
thought  there  was  little  danger  of  his  making  many  proselytes 
from  the  habits  and  comforts  they  had  learned  from  the  whites 
to  the  hardships  and  privations  of  savagism,  and  no  great  harm 
if  he  did.  But  his  followers  increased  until  the  British  thought 
him  worth  corrupting,  and  found  him  corruptible.  I  suppose 
his  views  were  then  changed,  but  his  proceedings  in  consequence 
of  them  were  after  I  left  the  administration,  and  are  therefore 
unknown  to  me ;  nor  have  I  ever  been  informed  what  were  the 
particular  acts  on  his  part  which  produced  an  actual  commence 
ment  of  hostilities  on  ours.  I  have  no  doubt,  however,  that  the 

37 


664  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

subsequent  are  but  a  chapter  apart,  like  that  of  Henry  and 
Lord  Liverpool  in  the  book  of  the  kings  of  England." 

At  first  the  following  of  the  Prophet  was  small,  but  supersti 
tion  is  always  ready  to  take  up  with  new  leaders.  The  bolder 
the  imposition,  the  more  followers  it  finds.  As  the  stories  of  the 
Prophet  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  the  wonders  ascribed  to  him 
grew  with  lightning  rapidity.  As  the  tales  were  borne  to  the  far 
off  shores  of  Lake  Superior,  miracles  of  the  most  prodigious  pro 
portions  were  related.  Still  such  reports  were  not  confined  to  dis 
tant  tribes.  The  people  in  the  very  next  wigwam  to  the  Prophet's 
would  affirm  with  dogged  obstinacy,  bold  faces,  and  invincible 
positiveness  the  details  of  wonders  which  the  Prophet  had 
wrought,  and  which  they  themselves  had  witnessed.  Perhaps 
an  explanation  for  this  may  be  found  in  the  fact  that,  hearing 
others  relate  stories  of  the  Prophet's  miracles,  which  their  cred 
ulous  minds  believed,  they,  in  turn,  not  wishing  to  be  behind  the 
rest,  thought  it  necessary  to  bear  testimony  to  wonders  them 
selves.  In  fact,  the  nearer  they  were  to  the  Prophet,  and  the 
closer  their  relations  with  him,  the  keener  would  be  their  pique 
if  they  had  had  no  stories  to  tell.  So  each  of  the  Prophet's 
followers  strove  to  surpass  the  rest  in  the  tales  which  he  could 
tell  of  supernatural  occurrences. 

All  this  sort  of  thing,  it  will  be  observed,  has  for  its  foun 
dation  a  belief  that  miracles  did  occur ;  in  short,  in  their  possi 
bility  and  reality  as  a  general  thing,  the  only  question  being  as 
to  the  particular  details.  If  such  a  belief  in  the  possibility  of 
the  miracles,  and  in  the  fact  that  they  really  were  occurring, 
had  been  absent  from  the  Prophet's  followers,  it  is  evident  that 
the  above  explanation  would  be  incorrect.  Some  other  reason 
would  have  to  be  found  to  account  for  the  existence  of  the  tes 
timony  to  his  miracles.  Perhaps  it  would  not  be  necessary  to 
go  farther  in  such  a  case  than  to  say  that  the  stories  were  lies. 
In  the  present  instance,  however,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
the  followers  of  the  Prophet  believed  him  to  be  an  actual 
miracle  worker,  the  only  question  in  their  minds,  if  there 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.          665 

was  any  at  all,  being  as  to  what  particular  miracles  he  had 
wrought. 

It  is  the  invariable  course  of  history  for  Superstition  to  go 
hand  in  hand  with  her  sisters,  Intolerance  and  Persecution. 
Such  was  the  case  with  the  Prophet.  He  instituted  a  persecu 
tion  against  witchcraft.  An  old  woman  was  denounced  as  a 
witch  by  him,  and  she  was  called  upon  repeatedly  to  give  up 
her  charm  and  medicine-bag.  She  was  put  to  the  stake  and 
burned.  In  her  fearful  agony,  hoping  for  relief,  she  screamed 
out  that  her  grandson  had  her  charm.  This  accusation,  instead 
of  saving  her,  resulted  in  the  young  Indian,  who  was  out  hunt 
ing,  being  forthwith  pursued  and  arrested.  He  confessed  that 
he  had  borrowed  the  charm,  and  by  means  of  it  had  flown 
through  the  air  over  Kentucky  to  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi, 
and  back  again,  before  bed-time.  He  insisted,  however,  that 
he  had  returned  the  charm  to  his  grandmother,  and  was  finally 
released. 

On  the  following  day  an  old  chief  named  Teteboxti  was 
accused  of  being  a  wizard.  Knowing  that  his  doom  was  fixed, 
the  old  man  arrayed  himself  in  his  finest  clothes,  and  confronted 
the  grim  circle  of  inquisitors  in  the  council-house.  The  trial 
was  speedy.  The  sentence  was  passed.  The  old  chief  calmly 
assisted  in  the  construction  of  his  own  funeral  pile.  Touched 
by  his  white  hairs,  the  council  became  merciful.  They  voted 
to  tomahawk  him  and  burn  his  body  afterwards.  This  was 
done.  Many  others  met  the  same  fate. 

When  Governor  Harrison  heard  of  the  witchcraft  delusion 
and  the  far-reaching  influence  of  the  Prophet,  he  was  justly 
alarmed.  No  one  knew  better  than  he  the  sway  of  superstition 
among  ignorant  minds.  He  knew  that,  although  the  Indians 
had  been  quiet  for  ten  years,  and  could  be  roused  by  the  call 
of  no  ordinary  leader,  nevertheless  deceived  by  a  mask  of 
religion,  they  might  once  more  plunge  the  frontiers  into  bloody 
war.  He  wrote  them  a  most  earnest  letter,  urging  them  to 
drive  out  the  Prophet,  and  boldly  asserting  that  the  latter  was 


666  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  fraud.  He  told  the  Indians  that  the  pretender  could  work 
no  miracles.  "Ask  of  him  to  cause  the  sun  to  stand  still,  the 
moon  to  alter  its  course,  the  rivers  to  cease  to  flow,  or  the  dead 
to  rise  from  their  graves." 

The  Prophet  took  the  governor  at  his  word.  He  announced 
that  on  a  certain  day  he  would  cause  darkness  to  cover  the  sun. 
By  some  means  he  had  learned  that  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun 
would  occur  on  a  certain  day.  The  reports  of  the  prophecy 
spread  to  a  thousand  villages. 

On  the  appointed  day  a  vast  assemblage  of  Indians  from 
far  and  near  gathered  to  witness  the  miracle.  They  were 
arranged  in  a  great  circle.  Painted  Ottawas,.  wild  Ojibwas, 
fierce  Dacotahs,  ugly  Kickapoos,  and  curious  Illinois,  as  well  as 
numbers  from  nearer  tribes,  were  there.  Over  the  multitude 
hung  a  deathlike  silence.  The  rattling  tongues  of  the  squaws 
were  hushed,  and  the  cheeks  of  the  boldest  warriors  were 
blanched  with  unnatural  pallor. 

An  hour  before  npon  the  Prophet,  dressed  with  dazzling 
magnificence,  came  out  of  his  wigwam,  and  strode  with  slow 
and  stately  steps  toward  the  center  of  the  circle.  A  slight 
buzz  of  apprehension  went  through  the  assembly.  A  few 
Indian  youths  ran  from  one  point  to  another,  carrying  messages 
and  perfecting  details.  At  last  all  was  ready.  The  Prophet 
rose.  Extending  his  right  arm  and  turning  his  face  toward  the 
heavens,  he  pronounced  an  unintelligible  incantation.  As  he 
proceeded  a  disc  of  darkness  was  observed  to  be  slowly  appear 
ing  upon  the  edge  of  the  sun.  The  eyes  of  the  vast  assemblage 
were  turned  from  the  Prophet  toward  the  phenomenon.  As  the 
moments  progressed  the  dark  spot  enlarged.  There  was  a  per 
ceptible  diminution  of  light. 

An  hour  went  by.  The  Prophet  still  continued  his  diablarie. 
The  landscape,  before  so  sunny,  took  on  somber  hues  of  brown. 
The  air  was  close  and  still.  It  grew  darker  and  darker.  The 
multitude  was  thrilled  with  awe.  They  clung  closely  to  one 
another.  Not  a  few  believed  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.          667 

hand.  The  deep  shadows,  the  darkened  air,  the  increasing 
obscurity,  which  at  sunset  would  have  attracted  no  attention, 
occurring  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  with  the  sun  in  high  heaven, 
seemed  portentous  and  awful.  The  Prophet  alone  remained 
calm  and  unmoved.  At  the  moment  of  total  eclipse,  he  cried 
out  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Behold !  did  I  not  prophesy  truly  ?" 

The  reports  of  this  miracle  gave  a  wonderful  impulse  to  the 
cause  of  the  Prophet.  Tecumseh  now  appeared  on  the  scene. 
He  took  care  to  lend  the  aid  of  his  powerful  name  and  influ 
ence  to  the  Prophet  by  an  ostentatious  reverence.  The  latter 
returned  the  compliment  by  pointing  out  Tecumseh  as  the 
leader  chosen  by  the  Great  Spirit  to  save  the  red  man.  Thus 
these  two  brothers  acted  well  their  parts.  With  Tecumseh  to 
do  the  heavy  tragedy,  and  the  Prophet  to  shift  the  scenes  and 
throw  on  the  red  lights,  the  drama  proceeded  well.  The 
Indians  were  fired  with  fanaticism  and  military  enthusiasm. 

The  whites  were  alarmed.  The  ever-increasing  throng  of 
savages  about  Tecumseh  and  his  brother  seemed  ready  to  break 
out  into  violence.  At  a  council  in  Ohio,  Tecumseh  made  a 
three  hours'  speech.  He  reviewed  all  the  treaties  with  the  white 
men,  and  undertook  to  prove  their  nullity.  Every  appeal  which 
could  rouse  the  passions  of  his  followers  and  stir  their  hearts 
with  bitterness  and  hostility  was  made.  The  orator  hurled  a 
bold  defiance  against  the  enemies  of  his  people.  The  Indians 
who  were  present,  excited  by  his  fiery  eloquence,  were  unable 
to  keep  their  seats. 

While  Tecumseh's  influence  was  rising  at  home,  the  fame  of 
the  Prophet  was  spreading  abroad.  In  a  village  of  the  Ojib- 
was,  on  Lake  Superior,  was  an  unfortunate  captive  named  John 
Tanner.  He  afterwards  escaped,  and  related  that  one  day  a 
strange  Indian  arrived  in  the  village.  For  days  he  preserved 
the  most  mysterious  silence.  Then  he  told  them  that  he  was 
a  messenger  from  the  great  Shawanese  Prophet.  On  a  certain 
day  the  Indians  assembled  in  their  council-house.  In  the  midst 
of  the  room  stood  an  object  in  form  and  size  something  like  a 


668  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

prostrate  man.  Over  it  was  thrown  a  blanket.  The  stranger 
carried  four  strings  of  beads,  said  to  be  made  from  the  flesh  of 
the  Prophet.  Each  Indian  in  the  assembly  took  hold  of  these 
beads,  and  by  this  act  adopted  the  new  religion.  They  also, 
though  with  reluctance,  gave  up  their  medicine-bags. 

The  more  fanatical  of  the  Indians  went  to  dwell  with  the 
Prophet.  In  this  movement  we  see  a  new  proof  that  the  laws 
of  society,  whether  civilized  or  barbarous,  are  the  same.  This 
great  religious  uprising  among  the  Indians,  and  the  war  which 
followed  it,  were  parallel  to  such  religious  wars  as  those  of 
Mohammed  and  of  many  another  leader.  Religion,  the  very 
genius  of  which  is  peace,  has  more  often  than  any  thing  else 
been  the  cloak  of  the  great  soldier. 

The  Indians,  followers  of  Tecumseh  and  the  Prophet,  who 
had  taken  up  their  residence  on  the  banks  of  the  Wabash,  at 
a  village  called  "The  Prophet's  Town,"  soon  began  to  mingle 
warlike  exercises  with  their  religious  devotions.  The  great 
plan  to  which  Tecumseh  had  devoted  all  his  genius  and  ener 
gies  was  nothing  less  than  a  mighty  confederation  of  the  Indian 
tribes  of  the  continent,  who  were  to  unite  and  drive  the  white 
men  beyond  the  Alleghanies. 

As  the  great  scheme  had  taken  shape  in  his  mind  its  form 
became  less  and  less  that  of  a  mere  temporary  alliance,  such  as 
the  immortal  Pontiac  had  sought;  and  more  and  more  that  of  a 
"great  and  permanent  confederation,  an  empire  of  red  men,  of 
which  Tecumseh  should  be  the  leader  and  emperor."  For 
four  years  he  traveled  incessantly  in  the  propagation  of  his 
enterprise.  Now  he  visited  the  farthest  extremities  of  Lake 
Superior.  At  another  time  he  traversed  the  unknown  region's 
beyond  the  Mississippi.  Again  he  labored  with  the  Creeks, 
securing  Red  Eagle  as  his  most  illustrious  convert. 

The  United  States  Government  was  alarmed.  It  was 
reported  in  the  spring  of  1810  that  Tecumseh  controlled 
more  than  sixteen  hundred  warriors.  It  was  evident  that  the 
exposed  settlements  in  Indiana  were  in  danger.  Shortly,  faith- 


GENERAL   HARRISON  AND   THE  PROPHET. 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  671 

ful  scouts  reported  that  Tecumseh's  following  numbered  three 
thousand  warriors. 

Many  messages,  threatening  on  the  part  of  Governor  Harri 
son,  deceitful  or  defiant  on  the  part  of  Tecumseh,  passed  back 
and  forth.  There  were  frequent  councils.  The  Indian  chief, 
with  forty  braves,  visited  Vincennes  to  have  a  talk  with  Gov 
ernor  Harrison.  After  much  singular  dancing  and  conjuring, 
Tecumseh  began  the  council.  He  demanded  that  the  "  Seven 
teen  Fires,"  as  he  called  the  United  States,  give  up  the  lands 
which  they  claimed  by  virtue  of  treaties  with  separate  tribes. 
He  boldly  announced  that  he  intended  to  go  to  war  unless  this 
was  done.  To  these  demands  Governor  Harrison  replied  with 
definite  refusals.  Tecumseh  became  so  angry,  that  the  peace 
talk  came  near  ending  in  a  free  fight.  An  adjournment  to  the 
following  day  operated  to  quiet  matters  somewhat. 

This  council  was  held  on  the  12th  of  August,  1810.  It 
broke  up,  leaving  the  Indians  irritated  and  defiant  and  the  white 
people  of  Vincennes  alarmed  and  apprehensive.  As  the  year 
progressed,  evidences  of  Indian  hostility  became  more  frequent. 
Horses  were  stolen.  Here  and  there  murders  were  committed. 
The  Indians,  in  the  spring  of  1811,  captured  a  boat  filled  with 
salt.  It  had  been  sent  up  the  Wabash  for  distribution  among  all 
the  tribes.  In  the  previous  year  the  Prophet  had  refused  to 
take  any  salt,  sending  an  insulting  message  to  Governor  Harri 
son.  This  year  he  was  wiser.  He  took  all  the  salt,  including 
not  only  his  own,  but  that  which  belonged  to  a  dozen  other 
tribes.  At  a  council  held  afterward,  Tecumseh  hissed  out  to 
General  Harrison  that  he  was  hard  to  please,  and  that  he  was 
angry  at  one  time  because  the  Indians  took  no  salt  and  another 
year  because  they  did  take  it. 

The  good  people  at  Vincennes  lived  in  the  shadow  of  a  con 
stant  fear.  They  knew  that  Tecumseh  might,  at  any  time, 
launch  his  fleet  of  light  canoes  at  the  Prophet's  town  and,  glid 
ing  down  on  the  swift  current  of  the  Wabash,  suddenly  and 
silently  attack  Vincennes  before  a  single  word  of  warning  could 


672  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

reach  and  rouse  their  victims.  Meanwhile  reports  continued  to 
come  in  of  Tecumseh's  intrigues  among  distant  tribes. 

The  last  council  with  Tecumseh  was  held  at  Vincennes  on 
the  27th  of  July,  1811.  The  chieftain,  accompanied  by  a  reti 
nue  of  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  well-armed  Indians,  took 
his  position  on  one  side  of  an  arbor  prepared  for  the  council, 
while  Governor  Harrison,  with  seventy  soldiers,  occupied  a 
position  opposite.  Tecumseh's  speech  when  called  upon  to  sur 
render  a  number  of  Indians,  who  had  murdered  some  whites, 
was  artful  and  ingenious.  He  preached  a  regular  sermon  to  the 
white  men,  on  the  duty  of  the  forgiveness  of  injuries.  He  also 
begged  that  nothing  be  done  with  the  Indians  during  his  absence, 
which  was  about  to  transpire,  on  a  journey  to  the  South.  He 
assured  Harrison  that  his  only  object  was  to  prevail  on  all  the 
tribes  to  unite  in  the  bonds  of  peace. 

We  now  know  how  different  was  his  real  mission.  Every 
effort  was  made  by  frequent  changes  of  garb,  and  skillful 
maneuverings  to  impress  Tecumseh  with  the  military  strength  of 
Yincennes.  A  Pottawatomie,  called  the  Deaf  Chief,  was  pres 
ent  at  the  council,  but  unable  to  hear  the  proceedings.  In  the 
evening  he  was  informed  as  to  what  had  taken  place,  and  going 
up  to  General  Harrison,  told  him  that  he  would  have  confronted 
Tecumseh  with  proofs  of  his  hostility  had  he  understood  the 
latter's  pretensions  of  friendliness. 

This  incident  was  related  to  Tecumseh,  who  quietly  informed 
his  brother  that  the  Deaf  Chief  must  be  put  out  of  the  way. 
The  latter  heard  of  the  threat.  He  calmly  repaired  to  his  tent, 
arrayed  himself  in  the  full  costume  of  the  warrior,  sprang  into 
his  canoe,  and  paddled  his  solitary  way  to  Tecumseh's  camp. 
Arriving  in  the  presence  of  the  great  chief,  the  Indian  reproached 
him  bitterly  for  the  threat  of  assassination,  and  dared  him  to 
an  open  combat.  To  every  taunt  and  insult  Tecumseh  returned 
majestic  indifference.  With  a  war-whoop  of  defiance,  the  Indian 
again  betook  himself  to  his  canoe.  A  little  later  a  sharp  crack 
from  a  rifle  was  heard  from  the  bushes  along  the  shore.  The 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET. 


673 


boatman  might  have  been  seen  to  fall  heavily  backwards,  and 
the  canoe  without  a  helmsman  bearing  -the  corpse  of  its  owner 
drifted  on  into  the  night. 

In  August,  the  governor  again  sent  a  demand  for  the  sur 
render  of  some  murderers,  to  which  the  Indians  replied  with 
the  usual  insulting,  refusal.  Under  strict  orders  to  preserve 
peace  if  possible,  Governor  Harrison  resolved  to  confront  the 
Indians  with  a  strong  military  force  before  Tecumseh  should 
return.  In  order  to  stop  the  outrages  of  which  reports  were 
brought  in  every  day,  and  in  compliance  with  loud  demands 
from  the  citizens  of  Vincennes  and  other  settlements,  the  gov 
ernor  resolved  to  erect  a  fort  on  the  Wabash,  and  break  up 
the  large  and  dangerous  assemblage  of  hostile  Indians  at  the 
Prophet's  town. 

On  the  26th  of  September,  1811,  Governor  Harrison  marched 
out  of  Vincennes  at  the  head  of  nine  hundred  troops.  Six 
days  afterward  the  army  encamped  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the 
Wabash,  at  a  point  two  miles  above  the  present  bustling  city  of 
Terre  Haute. 
Here  the  men 
were  employed 
in  the  construc 
tion  of  a  log  fort, 
named  by  the 
soldiers  Fort 
Harrison. 

Evidence  ac 
cumulated  to 
show  that  the 
host  of  Indians 
at  the  Prophet's 
town,  instead  of 

submitting  on  the  approach  of  the  army,  were  preparing  to  risk 
a  battle.  This  was  expressly  contrary  to  Tecumseh's  orders. 
It  seems  probable  that  the  Prophet,  jealous  of  his  brother's  sud- 


FORT  HARRISON. 


674  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

den  fame,  was  all  the  more  anxious  for  a  battle  in  the  latter's 
absence.  His  town,  which  was  the  objective  point  of  the  invad 
ers,  was  the  center  and  capital  of  the  new  religious  fanaticism. 
Here  the  Great  Spirit  was  supposed  to  dwell.  Here  were  per 
formed  the  strange  and  mysterious  rites  with  which  the  new 
worship  was  carried  on.  Hideous  dances,  midnight  orgies,  self- 
inflicted  tortures,  and  the  dark  ceremonies  of  Indian  magic  occu 
pied  the  frenzied  savages. 

To  the  thousands  of  converts,  who  had  everywhere  adopted 
the  religion  of  the  Prophet,  this  sacred  town  was  as  Jerusalem 
to  the  Jews,  and  Mecca  to  the  Mohammedans.  Its  fortifications 
were  believed  to  be  impregnable,  and  here  a  thousand  braves, 
the  flower  of  a  hundred  warlike  tribes,  worked  into  a  frantic 
frenzy,  alike  by  the  fervor  of  fanaticism,  the  promptings  of 
patriotism,  the  fever  of  hatred,  and  the  undying  love  of  war 
fare,  prepared  to  give  battle  to  the  invading  army. 

Leaving  a  small  garrison  at  Fort  Harrison,  the  troops 
advanced  along  the  south-east  bank  of  the  Wabash.  After 
passing  Big  Raccoon  Creek  it  was  determined  to  cross  the 
Wabash,  in  order  to  avoid  the  woody  shores  oh  the  south-east 
side.  This  was  effected  at  a  point  near  the  site  of  the  present 
town  of  Montezuma,  Parke  county,  Indiana. 

On  the  6th  of  November  the  army  came  in  sight  of  the 
Prophet's  town.  Small  bodies  of  Indians,  armed  and  painted 
for  battle,  could  be  seen  scurrying  hither  and  thither  across  the 
country.  As  the  armyv  continued  to  advance  every  effort  was 
made  to  communicate  with  these  savages,  and  assure  them  of 
the  peaceful  intentions  of  the  whites.  While  this  fact  is  well 
authenticated,  it  must  be  confessed  that  an  army  of  a  thousand 
men  approaching  within  a  mile  of  their  principal  town,  and 
which  had  already  constructed  and  garrisoned  two  forts,  was 
not  calculated  to  cause  the  savages  to  regard  the  invaders' 
intentions  as  purely  peaceful.  In  fact  the  thing  now  wears  the 
appearance  of  a  huge  joke.  However,  toward  evening  three 
chiefs  advanced,  representing  that  the  Prophet  on  his  part,  also, 


THE  TRVE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  675 

contemplated  nothing  but  peace,  and  that  his  heart  was  over 
flowing  with  love  for  his  white  brethren.  Thus  the  Indian 
answered  one  joke  with  another.  He  also  asked  that  the  white 
men  refrain  from  hostilities  until  the  following  day,  when  a  peace 
talk  could  be  had. 

The  army  encamped  for  the  night  about  three  quarters  of  a 
mile  from  the  Prophet's  town,  on  the  now  famous  Tippecanoe 
Battle  Ground,  seven  miles  north-east  of  the  present  city  of 
Lafayette.  The  place  was  a  beautiful  spot  of  timber-land, 
about  ten  feet  higher  than  the  marshy  prairie  in  front,  which 
stretched  away  toward-  the  Prophet's  town,  and  perhaps  twice 
that  height  above  the  prairie  in  the  rear.  Here  the  army 
encamped. 

Meanwhile  the  Indians  were  by  no  means  idle.  All  night 
long  the  chiefs  sat  in  council.  -  A  dozen  different  plans  for  the 
attack  were  proposed.  At  one  time  it  was  decided  to  meet  the 
whites  in  council  on  the  next  day,  agree  to  their  proposals,  and 
withdraw,  leaving  behind  two  Winnebagoes,  who  were  to  rush 
forward  and  assassinate  the  governor.  This  was  to  be  the  signal 
for  battle.  Later  in  the  night,  which  was  dark  and  rainy,  the 
plan  was  changed.  The  Prophet,  mixing  some  mysterious  hell- 
broth,  pretended  to  read  in  it  the  fact  that  one-half  of  Harri 
son's  army  was  dead,  and  the  other  half  crazy.  Encouraged 
by  this  assurance  the  whole  body  of  warriors,  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  began  to  creep  across  the  miry  prairie  toward  the 
American  camp. 

Early  though  it  was,  General  Harrison  had  risen,  and  was 
pulling  on  his  boots  before  a  camp-fire.  The  drummer  was  just 
being  roused  to  wake  the  men.  Suddenly  a  shot  was  heard, 
followed  by  a  wild  yell  from  multitudes  of  savage  throats.  The 
men,  who  had  slept  in  rank  with  their  clothes  on  and  arms  in 
hand,  sprang  to  their  feet.  A  number  of  Indians  made  their 
way  into  the  heart  of  the  camp  before  they  could  be  arrested. 
The  place  was  dark  except  as  it  was  illuminated  by  the  glow 
of  the  smoldering  camp-fires.  The  men  hurried  to  put  these 


676  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

out  as  quickly  as  possible,  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  having 
so  good  a  mark.  They  soon  rallied  from  the  surprise,  and  began 
to  fight  with  great  courage. 

In  the  confusion  of  the  moment  the  large  white  horse  of 
Governor  Harrison  could  not  be  found,  and  the  American  com 
mander  was  forced  to  mount  a  borrowed  plug  of  a  different 
color.  This  circumstance  no  doubt  saved  his  life.  One  of  his 
aids,  who  also  rode  a  white  horse,  fell,  pierced  by  a  dozen  balls, 
in  the  very  beginning  of  the  attack.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  he  was  mistaken  for  his  chief. 

Harrison  took  a  most  active  part  in  the  battle,  riding  from 
point  to  point,  rallying  and  encouraging- his  men.  Not  so  with 
the  Prophet.  Selecting  for  himself  an  elevated  position,  he 
chanted  a  wild  war-song.  Though  invisible  in  the  darkness, 
Ms  shrill  and  piercing  voice  could  be  distinctly  heard  above 
the  din  of  the  battle  in  every  part  of  the  field.  Here,  like  an 
evil  genius,  he  presided  over  the  destinies  of  the  battle  until 
his  braves,  wounded  and  dying,  were  being  driven  back  from 
the  point  of  attack. 

The  American  troops  which  were  encamped  around  the  edge 
of  the  spot  of  woodland,  succeeded  in  keeping  the  Indians  out 
of  the  camp  until  it  became  sufficiently  light  for  a  general 
charge,  which  resulted  in  the  complete  rout  of  the  Indians. 
During  the  battle  many  instances  of  heroism  occurred.  Cap 
tain  Warrick  was  shot  through  the  body.  His  wound  was 
dressed,  and  though  it  was  evident  he  could  live  but  a  few 
hours,  his  great  physical  strength  was  unexhausted.  He  insisted 
on  going"back  to  head  his  company.  This  was  but  one  of  many 
such  occurrences. 

When  the  Indians  fled,  the  whites  found  thirty-seven  of 
their  own  number  killed,  and  a  hundred  and  fifty-one  wounded. 
Twenty-five  of  the  latter  afterwards  died  from  their  wounds. 
During  the  day  the  shattered  army  was  employed  in  strength 
ening  their  position.  Their  only  food  was  broiled  horseflesh. 
On  the  following  day  they  advanced  to  the  Prophet's  town. 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.          677 

No  defiant  war-whoop  greeted  them.  The  place  was  desolate 
and  deserted.  It  had  been  abandoned  in  a  panic.  The  Indians, 
more  civilized  than  the  wild  tribes  of  the  plains  which  we  know 
to-day,  had  left  behind  all  their  household  furniture,  many  fire 
arms,  great  quantities  of  corn,  numbers  of  hogs  and  chickens. 
The  only  human  being  in  the  village  was  an  old  chief,  with  a 
broken  leg.  He  had  been  left  behind  by  his  people,  and  was 
unable  to  escape.  The  whites  ministered  to  his  wants  and  left 
him.  Taking  the  provisions  for  their  own  use,  the  entire  village 
was  destroyed.  The  Prophet's  influence  was  forever  broken. 

Tecumseh  was  already  on  his  way  home.  His  trip  had  been 
successful.  Red  Eagle-  and  the  Creeks  were  preparing  for  war. 
The  Cherokees,  the  Osages,  the  Seminoles,  were  all  ready  to 
take  up  the  hatchet.  The  great  confederacy  seemed  almost  an 
accomplished  fact.  Confident  and  happy,  Tecumseh  hurried 
back  to  the  Prophet's  town.  He  was  ignorant  of  what  had 
happened.  As  he  and  his  party  approached  they  gave  the 
salute-yell.  Instead  of  a  wild  chorus  of  replies  from  the  direc 
tion  of  the  village,  all  was  wrapped  in  utter  silence. 

Anxious  and  alarmed,  he  hurried  forward.  He  caught  sight 
of  the  spot  where  the  village  had  been.  Not  a  cabin  was  to  be 
seen.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  again,  to  see  if  it  was 
not  a  dream,  a  nightmare.  Not  so.  The  village  had  disap 
peared.  Only  heaps  of  ashes  marked  its  site.  All  its  forti 
fications,  all  the  stores  of  food  and  ammunition,  and  the  collection 
of  arms,  the  fruit  of  years  of  weary  toil,  were  gone.  Tecum 
seh  saw  at  once  what  had  happened.  He  was  overwhelmed 
with  sorrow.  Just  at  the  moment  of  apparent  triumph  he 
found  the  very  foundation  of  the  fabric  dissolved  in  thin  air. 
Guided  by  some  stragglers  Tecumseh  hurried  to  the  camp, 
twenty  miles  away,  where  the  disgraced  Prophet  awaited  with 
fear  and  trembling  his  brother's  return.  Great  and  terrible  was 
Tecumseh's  rage.  He  seized  the  unfortunate  impostor  by  the 
hair,  and  threatened  to  kill  him.  The  battle  had  been  fought 
in  direct  opposition  to  his  orders. 


678  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

All  had  been  staked,  and  all  was  lost.  The  Prophet's  influ 
ence  was  utterly  gone.  He  was  the  object  of  contempt  and 
abuse.  The  very  boys  yelled  at  him  as  he  sneaked  through  a 
village.  Yet,  because  he  was  Tecumseh's  brother,  he  was  saved 
from  further  punishment.  Tecumseh  wrote  to  General  Harrison 
that  he  desired  to  go  to  Washington.  The  request  was  granted, 
but  he  was  required  to  go  alone.  This  wounded  the  spirit  of 
the  disappointed  man.  The  would-be  emperor  refused  to  go 
without  a  retinue.  Filled  with  unutterable  fury,  he  joined  the 
English  army  in  Canada.  When  invited  to  take  part  in  a 
peace-council,  he  said :  "  No !  I  have  taken  sides  with  the  king, 
and  I  will  suffer  my  bones  to  bleach  on  this  shore  before  I  will 
recross  that  stream  to  take  part  in  any  council  of  neutrality." 

Tecumseh  took  an  active  part  in  the  war,  and  before  long 
found  himself  at  the  head  of  seven  hundred  warriors.  Nearly 
all  the  leading  chiefs  followed  his  lead  and  went  over  to  the 
British  side.  Fort  Dearborn,  theii  a  lonely  post  on  the  spot 
where  Chicago,  the  "Wonder  of  the  West,"  now  handles  the 
commerce  of  a  continent,  was  evacuated  by  its  occupants.  The 
departing  garrison  and  the  families  of  the  fort  were  assaulted 
by  savages,  and  nearly  all  killed.  Tecumseh  also  devised  two 
sieges  to  be  conducted  by  Indians. 

Fort  Wayne  was  a  wooden  fortification,  garrisoned  by  sev 
enty  men.  Early  in  September  word  reached  General  Harri 
son,  at  Cincinnati,  that  this  post  was  besieged  and  in  great 
peril.  Five  men,  headed  by  Logan,  an  Indian  chief  of  wide 
fame,  undertook  to  communicate  with  the  garrison.  At  the 
moment  of  their  arrival  the  besiegers  were  gathered  on  two 
sides  of  the  fort,  in  an  attempt  to  take  the  place  by  stratagem. 
The  messengers  reached  the  very  walls  of  the  place  without 
opposition,  and  came  suddenly  upon  four  Indian  chiefs,  with 
a  flag  of  truce,  who  were  attempting  to  lure  the  officers  of 
the  fort  into  a  peace-talk  outside  the  fortification,  where  they 
might  be  assassinated.  The  alarmed  chiefs  made  off,  while  the 
five  scouts  entered  the  fort. 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.          679 

The  situation  was  found  to  be  full  of  distress.  As  soon  as 
a  letter  could  be  written  the  bold  men  sallied  forth,  and  dashed 
through  the  lines  of  the  astonished  besiegers,  to  carry  the  news 
to  General  Harrison.  The  defenders  of  Fort  Wayne  deposed 
their  commander,  and  elected  Lieutenant  Curtis  as  his  successor. 
Troops  failing  to  arrive,  the  Indians  demanded  the  surrender  of 
the  place,  and  this  being  refused,  made  a  heavy  attack.  They 
had  two  cannon,  which  burst  at  the  first  fire,  being  made  of 
wood  and  hooped  with  iron,  by  some  scalawag  English  traders. 
The  garrison  fought  well.  The  Indians  were  repulsed  with 
heavy  loss.  General  Harrison  at  last  arrived  in  the  vicinity, 
and  failing  to  ambush  him,  the  Indians  withdrew. 

Captain  Zachary  Taylor,  afterwards  President  of  the  United 
States,  was  the  commandant  of  Fort  Harrison.  His  force  num 
bered  about  thirty-five  effective  men.  On  the  3d  of  September 
a  lot  of  Indians  with  their  women  and  children  appeared  before 
the  fort,  and  begged  for  admission,  under  pretense  of  holding  a 
council.  Failing  in  this,  they  continued  to  linger  around,  and 
at  midnight  the  garrison  was  aroused  by  an  alarm  of  fire.  One 
of  the  block-houses  at  the  corner  of  the  fortification,  containing 
the  provisions  of  the  garrison,  was  in  flames.  Several  barrels 
of  whisky  took  fire,  and  the  whole-  structure  was  so  quickly 
ablaze  that  no  efforts  to  extinguish  the  flames  could  avail.  A 
strong  force  of  Indians  poured  volleys  of  balls  into  the  fort,  and 
were  evidently  preparing  to  force  an  entrance  through  the  gap 
left  by  the  destruction  of  the  block-house. 

The  men  prevented  the  spread  of  the  flames  as  well  as  they 
could,  while  their  captain,  sick  with  bilious  fever,  tore  down  a 
log  structure,  and  braving  the  bullets  of  the  savages,  constructed 
a  hasty  barricade  opposite  the  gap.  Behind  this  the  men  fought 
bravely,  repulsing  every  assault.  So  inevitable  did  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  garrison  seem,  that  two  men  attempted  to  escape 
through  the  gap  left  by  the  fire.  One  was  killed ;  the  other 
concealed  himself,  and  was  re-admitted  to  the  fort  in  the  morn 
ing.  The  loss  of  their  provisions  threatened  the  handful  of 


680  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

* 

men  with  starvation.  A  wagon-train  from  Vincennes  coming  to- 
their  relief  was  attacked,  and  nearly  the  whole  escort  killed. 
In  time  a  stronger  force  made  its  way  to  the  little  outpost. 
The  Indians,  to  revenge  themselves  for  their  disappointment, 
attacked  a  settlement  at  Pigeon  Roost,  on  a  branch  of  White 
River,  in  Clarke  county,  Indiana,  and  massacred  twenty-one 
men,  women,  and  children. 

In  the  progress  of  the  war,  a  Shawanese  chief  named  Logan 
proved  to  be  a  most  valuable  scout  for  the  Americans.  He  was, 
however,  suspected  of  treachery.  Deeply  hurt,  he,  with  Cap 
tain  Johnny  and  Bright  Horn,  his  inseparable  companions, 
started  out  to  prove  his  fidelity.  They  were  surprised  by  some 
hostile  Indians,  and  captured.  Logan  pretended  to  be  desert 
ing  to  the  British,  and  succeeded  in  retaining  his  arms.  One 
of  the  guards,  noticing  something  in  Captain  Johnny's  mouth, 
looked  inquiringly  toward  him.  The  latter  coolly  said,  "  Me 
chaw  heap  tobac."  The  tobacco  was  a  bullet.  While  some  of 
their  captors  were  searching  the  woods  for  black  haws,  Logan 
and  his  companions  attacked  the  remainder.  Five  Indians  were 
killed.  Logan  received  a  mortal  wound.  He  made  his  way 
back  to  the  American  camp.  He  lingered  two  days  in  the 
greatest  agony.  The  men,  understanding  that  he  had  fallen  to 
vindicate  his  honor,  bestowed  every  attention  possible.  The 
faithful  chief  passed  away  with  a  smile  of  triumph  on  his  face, 
satisfied  that  he  had  answered  his  accusers,  though  at  the  cost 
of  his  life.  His  mother  was  Tecumapease,  the  only  sister  of 
Tecumseh. 

Among  the  many  tragic  occurrences  of  the  Indian  warfare 
in  1812,  none,  was  more  fearful  than  the  battle  and  massacre  of 
Raisin.  Frenchtown  was  on  the  river  Raisin,  only  eighteen 
miles  from  Maiden,  Canada,  where  the  British  had  their  entire 
force.  A  cry  for  help  came  from  the  place,  and  in  the  dead  of 
winter  six  hundred  men  marched  from  the  Maumee  to  this  place. 
A  sharp  battle  resulted  in  the  evacuation  of  Frenchtown  by 
the  British.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  more  Americans  were  then 


THE  TRUE  STQRY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  681 

sent  forward  to  re-enforce  the  first  army.  On  the  morning  of 
January  22,  1813,  two  thousand  British  and  Indians  attacked 
the  Americans.  A  bloody  battle  resulted  in  the  surrender  of 
the  entire  American  force.  The  English  commander  left  the 
wounded  in  the  place,  taking  the  rest  to  Maiden.  On  the  fol 
lowing  morning  two  hundred  Indians,  painted  black  and  red, 
entered  the  place,  and  barbarously  massacred  the  helpless 
wounded.  Many  were  burnt  alive  in  the  buildings  in  which 
they  lay.  Nearly  three  hundred  perished  in  the  battle  and  the 
massacre  together.  The  whole  town  was  filled  with  corpses. 
Tecumseh  was  in  the  Wabash  region  at  the  time,  raising 
re-enforcements. 

In  April  Tecumseh  appeared  before  Fort  Meigs,  on  the  Mau- 
mee  River,  where  General  Harrison  had  his  head-quarters.  The 
English  erected  three  batteries.  To  match  this,  Harrison  con 
structed  an  earth  embankment,  twelve  feet  high,  in  which  the 
cannon-balls  buried  themselves  harmlessly.  General  Clay  at 
last  approached  to  the  relief  of  the  fort  with  eight  hundred 
men.  A  battle  ensued  in  the  attempt  to  throw  themselves  into 
the  fort.  The  activity  of  Tecumseh's  warriors  defeated  the 
effort,  less  than  two  hundred  out  of  the  whole  number  reaching 
the  fort.  The  English  commander  allowed  his  Indian  allies  to 
tomahawk  such  of  the  prisoners  as  they  pleased,  more  than 
twenty  being  brutally  murdered.  Tecumseh  had  been  in 
another  part  of  the  battle-field.  Discovering  what  was  going 
on,  he  rode  at  full  speed  to  the  spot,  dismounted,  and  with 
drawn  tomahawk  beat  his  men  off  from  the  prisoners,  and 
cursed  the  English  commander  for  his  crime.  The  latter  said 
he  could  not  control  the  Indians,  but  Tecumseh  answered, 
"  Begone !  You  are  unfit  to  command ;  go  and  put  on  the  dress 
of  a  squaw." 

Tecumseh  was  an  unruly  ally.  He  despised  Proctor,  the 
English  commander  with  whom  he  operated.  One  day,  provis 
ions  being  scarce,  salt  beef  was  given  the  English  soldiers,  while 
the  Indians  received  only  horse-flesh.  Angered  at  the  outrage, 

38 


682  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Tecumseh  strode  to  Proctor's  tent  and  demanded  an  explanation. 
Seeing  the  English  general  about  to  treat  the  complaint  with 
indifference,  Tecumseh  significantly  struck  the  hili  of  the  com 
mander's  sword,  touching  at  the  same  time  the  handle  of  his 
tomahawk,  and  said,  "You  are  Proctor — I  am  Tecumseh."  This 
hint  at  a  mode  of  settling  the  difficulty,  brought  Proctor  to 
terms  at  once. 

Tecumseh's  last  grudge  against  Proctor  was  the  retreat  of 
the  English  from  Maiden  after  Commodore  Perry's  victory  on 
Lake  Erie.  Tecumseh  urged  a  battle  with  every  argument  and 
taunt.  "We  must  compare  our  father's  conduct  to  a  fat  dog 
that  carries  its  tail  on  its  back,  but  when  affrighted,  it  drops  it 
between  its  legs  and  runs  off."  Tecumseh,  disgusted  at  the 
retreat,  would  have  deserted  the  English  cause  but  for  the 
fact  that  he  had  induced  other  tribes  to  join  it.  Proctor  pre 
tended  from  time  to  time  that  he  would  halt  and  give  battle. 
When  the  retreat  commenced,  Tecumseh  said,  "We  are  now 
going  to  follow  the  British,  and  I  am  sure  that  we  shall  never 
return."  At  last,  on  the  5th  of  October,  Proctor  was  forced  to 
halt  and  oppose  the  pursuing  Americans  in  the  battle  of  the 
Thames.  Just  before  the  engagement,  Tecumseh  said  to  the 
group  of  chiefs  about  him;  "Brother  warriors,  we  are  now 
about  to  enter  into  an  engagement,  from  which  I  shall  never 
come  out — my  body  will  remain  on  the  field  of  battle."  Un 
buckling  his  sword  and  handing  it  to  a  chief  he  said,  "When 
my  son  becomes  a  noted  warrior,  and  able  to  wield  a  sword, 
give  this  to  him." 

As  the  battle  advanced,  the  victory  of  the  Americans  became 
apparent.  The  Indians  fought  well,  until  they  suddenly  missed 
the  loud,  commanding  battle-cry  of  Tecumseh.  There  was  a 
pause,  a  shudder,  and  then  all  incontinently  fled.  The  great 
chieftain  had  fallen,  pierced  by  a  pistol  ball.  The  discussion  as 
to  who  killed  Tecumseh  became  a  singularly  heated  one  in  sub 
sequent  political  campaigns,  the  chief  recommendation  for  office 
in  that  day  being  skill  as  an  Indian  fighter.  The  preponder- 


THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  PROPHET.  683 

ance   of  evidence    seems   to  indicate   that   Colonel  Richard  M. 
Johnson  was  the  slayer  of  the  famous  chief. 

Tecumseh  never  allowed  his  portrait'  to  be  painted.  He  is 
described  as  a  perfect  Apollo  in  form,  his  face  oval,  his  nose 
straight  and  handsome,  and  his  mouth  regular  and  beautiful. 
His  eyes  singularly  enough,  were  "  hazel,  clear,  and  pleasant  in 
conversation,  but  like  balls  of  fire  when  excited  by  anger  or 
enthusiasm."  His  bearing  was  that  of  a  noble  and  lofty  spirit, 
a  true  "King  of  the  Woods,"  as  the  English  called  him.  He 
was  temperate  in  his  habits,  loving  truth  and  honor  better  than 
life.  His  mind  was  of  a  high  order.  He  possessed  a  genius 
which  must  have  made  him  eminent  in  any  age  or  country. 
Like  Powhatan,  Pontiac,  and  Brant,  his  illustrious  predecessors, 
he  had  failed;  yet  like  them  he  was  great  in  defeat.  He  was 
the  first  great  chieftain  who  prohibited  the  massacre  of  pris 
oners.  He  died  at  forty-four,  in  the  very  prime  of  life. 

The  Prophet  survived  his  brother  twenty-two  years.  He, 
with  the  remnant  of  his  tribe,  removed  to  the  Indian  Territory, 
where,  shorn  of  his  power  and  influence,  he  still  continued  in  a 
small  way  to  exercise  his  "supernatural"  gifts  for  the  delusion 
and  mystification  of  a  few  ignorant  dupes.  He  had  only  one 
eye,  and  possessed  a  countenance  of  which  every  line  revealed 
craft  and  deceptiveness.  In  1823,  Isaac  Harvey,  a  Quaker 
missionary  at  Wapakoneta,  one  day  visited  a  sick  Indian,  a 
consumptive.  Entering  the  cabin,  he  found  the  sick  man  lying 
face  downwards,  his  bared  back  cut  in  several  places,  and  faint 
from  loss  of  blood.  Standing  over  him  was  the  Prophet,  with 
a  bloody  knife  in  his  hands.  He  explained  that  the  sick  man 
was  bewitched,  and  that  the  gashes  in  his  back  were  to  let  out 
the  demon.  The  good  Quaker  put  the  fraud  out  of  the  room, 
and  dressed  the  sick  man's  wounds.  Nor  did  his  work  stop 
here.  At  great  personal  risk  he  continued  to  fight  the  belief 
in  witchcraft,  and  to  oppose  the  Prophet's  delusions,  until  the 
lunacy  was  banished  entirely  from  the  Shawanese  tribe.  The 
impostor  himself  alone  continued  the  pretense  of  belief  in  it. 


684  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


OHAPTEE  XXIII 

THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES. 

|M  I  a  negro,  a  slave  ?  My  skin  is  dark,  but 
not  black.  I  am  an  Indian — a  Seminole.  The 
white  man  shall  not  make  me  black.  I  will 
make  the  white  man  red  with  blood,  and  then 
blacken  him  in  the  sun  and  rain,  where  the 
wolf  shall  smell  of  his  bones,  and  the  buzzard 
shall  live  upon  his  flesh."  Where,  when,  and 
by  whom  was  expression  given  to  this  dark 
sentiment?  The  speaker  was  Osceola,  a  young  Seminole  war 
rior.  The  scene,  a  trader's  cabin,  at  a  settlement  in  Florida. 
Osceola  had  sought  to  buy  a  keg  of  powder.  He  had  been 
refused  on  the  ground  that  the  United  States  forbade  the  sale 
of  ammunition  or  fire-arms  to  the  Seminoles.  The  time  of 
this  affront  was  the  early  part  of  the  year  1835.  Who  was 
Osceola,  what  his  race,  and  wThat  the  occasion  for  this  collision 
between  its  members  and  the  white  man? 

About  the  middle  of  the  last  century  a  great  chief  arose 
among  the  Creeks,  named  Secoifee.  He  had  ambition,  genius, 
eloquence,  the  gift  of  leadership,  and  the  spirit  of  rebellion. 
He  revolted  from  the  confederacy  of  the  Creeks,  and  drawing 
after  him  a  third  part  of  the  tribe,  took  his  way  to  the  heart 
of  Florida.  The  Creeks  attempted,  by  terrible  wars,  to  conquer 
the  rebels,  and  force  them  to  return  to  their  old  allegiance. 
Failing  in  this,  they  sought  revenge  by  branding  the  runa 
ways  with  the  name  of  "  The  Seminoles,"  a  name  originally 
a  badge  of  disgrace,  signifying  simply  "  The  Runaways."  The 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  685 

insult  failed,  as  well  as  the  armies  of  the  Creeks,  to  accomplish 
its  purpose.  Long  since  has  the  humiliating  meaning  been  for 
gotten  among  men,  who  remember  only  the  sad  but  beauti 
ful  name,  Seminole. 

Fugitives  themselves,  the  Seminoles  always  afforded  refuge 
and  safety  to  the  negroes  of  Georgia,  who  likewise  fled  from 
the  bondage  of  their  masters.  This  practice  brought  on  a  small 
war  between  the  Georgians  and  the  Seminoles,  which  eventually 
resulted  in  the  purchase  of  Florida  from  Spain.  The  United 
States  thus  found  itself  with  a  red  elephant  on  its  hands.  The 
whites  along  the  frontier  hated  their  Indian  neighbors.  They 
longed  to  get  their  greedy  hands  upon  their  property. 

Adventurers,  speculators,  and  pioneers  kept  up  an  incessant 
din,  demanding  that  the  Indians  of  Florida  be  confined  to  cer 
tain  limits,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  country  be  thrown  open  to 
settlers.  The  whites  wanted  the  country,  so  they  said.  This 
was  sufficient  reason  in  the  opinion  of  the  government  and  of 
the  age  to  rob  the  Indians  of  their  lands.  Inasmuch  as  at  the 
present  day  vast  expanses  of  Florida  remain  a  wilderness, 
untrodden  by  the  foot  of  man,  undeveloped  and  unexplored, 
the  folly,  the  falsehood,  and  the  wickedness  of  the  clamor  for 
the  spoliation  of  the  Seminoles  is  apparent  to  every  candid 
mind.  Nevertheless,  the  government,  by  intrigue  and  strata 
gem,  on  the  18th  of  September,  1824,  took  the  step  which  was 
ultimately  to  desolate  the  peninsula  to  which  mankind  have  given 
the  name  "  The  Land  of  Flowers."  A  considerable  portion  of 
the  Seminole  chiefs  were  induced  to  sign  a  treaty  by  which  they 
bound  themselves  to  withdraw  with  their  people  to  a  certain  des 
ignated  reservation.  This  treaty  was  to  afford  a  pretext  in  case 
of  its  violation  for  the  destruction  of  the  Seminoles. 

It  brought  nothing  but  trouble.  The  Indians,  unsettled  and 
driven  from  the  old  homes,  failed  to  quiet  down  in  any  new 
ones.  Angry  and  furious,  they  roamed  the  peninsula  at  will, 
from  end  to  end.  Of  course,  this  brought  on  collisions  and 
outrages.  Moreover,  the  old  question  of  the  negroes  am6ng 


686  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  Seminoles  gave  increasing  difficulty.  The  whites  claimed 
that  the  Indians  robbed  their  cornfields,  burned  their  houses, 
and  killed  their  cattle.  The  southerners  were  passionate.  No 
one  knew  at  what  moment  an  Indian  war  might  break  out. 

So  in  1833  the  government  induced  a  party  of  chiefs  to 
visit  another  unexplored  wilderness,  now  comprising  the  State 
of  Arkansas,  with  a  view  to  the  removal  of  the  entire  Seminole 
nation  to  that  place.  By  some  manipulation  the  United  States 
succeeded  in  inducing  a  number  of  the  chiefs  to  sign  what  is 
known  as  the  treaty  of  "  Payne's  Landing,"  whereby  they 
agreed  to  make  the  removal  to  Arkansas,  provided  an  investi 
gating  band  should  make  a  favorable  report  concerning  the 
country.  The  latter,  under  the  seductive  arts  of  the  Indian 
agents,  signed  a  treaty  whereby  they  admitted  that  the  country 
was  satisfactory,  and  binding  the  Seminoles  absolutely  to  the 
removal. 

When  these  chiefs  returned  from  Arkansas,  and  told  their 
people  what  had  been  done,  a  universal  dissatisfaction  arose. 
The  authority  of  the  commissioners  was  denied.  Indeed,  more 
than  half  of  them  deliberately  swore  they  had  never  signed 
the  treaty,  and  that  their  names  had  been  forged.  There  was 
widespread  agitation.  In  every  wigwam  was  heard  the  sound 
of  dispute;  in  every  council-house  the  roar  of  argument.  The 
negro  slaves  belonging  to  the  Seminoles  banded  together  and 
boldly  refused  to  follow  their  masters  into  exile,  to  a  coun 
try  where  subsistence  was  only  to  be  obtained  by  hard  labor. 
As  if  by  common  impulse  the  Seminoles  began  to  accumulate 
ammunition  and  weapons.  The  government  retaliated  by  for 
bidding  the  sale  of  these  articles  to  Indians  or  negroes.  In 
response  to  a  refusal  to  sell  even  powder,  Osceola,  a  young 
warrior,  not  even  a  chief,  uttered  the  terrible  threat  which 
stands  at  the  opening  of  this  chapter. 

As  the  months  went  by,  this  high-spirited  brave  became  one 
of  the  leaders  of  the  war-party  of  the  Seminoles.  The  old  chiefs 
of  the  nation  were  timid  and  conservative.  They  inclined  to  a 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  687 

compliance  with  the  demands  of  the  United  States.  With  the 
ringing  voice  of  command,  Osceola  swore  that  the  first  Indian 
who  commenced  the  sale  or  disposal  of  his  property,  prepara 
tory  to  removal,  should  be  put  to  death.  It  was  not  long  before 
this  threat  was  carried  out.  Charley  Mathlar,  an  old  chief, 
had  driven  his  cattle  to  one  of  the  army  posts,  and  there,  in 
conformity  with  the  treaty,  received  from  the  government  agent 
the  money  for  them.  He  was  returning  home  from  this  trip, 
carrying  in  his  hands  a  handkerchief,  in  which  was  tied  up  the 
gold  and  silver  thus  obtained. 

Osceola,  mindful  of  his  threat,  posted  himself  with  a  band 
of  braves  in  the  forest  beside  the  path,  along  which  the  old 
chief  must  come.  As  the  latter  approached,  his  enemies  fired. 
Covering,  his  face  with  his  hands,  he  fell  prostrate,  receiving 
the  blows  from  the  braves  without  a  word.  With  imperious  tone 
Osceola  said  that  the  gold  and  silver  was  made  of  the  red  man's 
blood.  Forbidding  his  followers  to  touch  the  accursed  thing,  he 
took  it  with  his  own  hands  and  threw  it  in  every  direction. 

Osceola  was  not  satisfied.  He  determined  to  obtain  revenge 
for  the  murder  of  Charley  Mathlar,  to  which,  as  he  said,  the 
white  man  had  driven  him.  With  sixty  followers  he  concealed 
himself  in  a  dense  forest,  in  the  neighborhood  t>f  Fort  King. 
General  Thompson  and  Lieutenant  Smith  were  taking  an  after 
noon  walk.  As  they  approached  the  ambush  they  were  fired 
upon  and  killed. 

The  fierce  appetite  for  war  and  blood,  which  sometimes 
sleeps,  but  never  is  utterly  eradicated  from  the  savage  heart, 
had  during  the  long  years  of  comparative  peace  and  of  agricul 
tural  pursuits  slumbered  inactive  in  the  breasts  of  the  Semi- 
noles.  As  the  deed  of  blood  was  accomplished,  this  old  appetite 
was  roused,  like  some  sleeping  animal,  to  rage  and  fury  in  the 
bosoms  of  the  Indians.  With  fierce,  exultant  cries  they  leaped 
forth  from  their  concealment,  scalped  the  fallen  men,  in  whose 
bodies  were  no  less  than  thirty-seven  balls,  and  to  satisfy  the 
craving  appetites  of  all,  as  well  as  to  prove  to  their  companions 


688  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

their  participation  in  the  murder,  cut  the  scalps  into  sixty  small 
pieces,  and  distributed  them  to  every  member  of  the  party. 

Near  by  was  the  sutler's  store,  from  which  provisions  were 
supplied  to  the  fort.  It  was  just  the  hour  for  the  evening  meal. 
Through  the  windows,  open  for  the  fresh  sea  breeze,  which  dur 
ing  certain  hours  in  the  day  makes  Florida  delightful  beyond 
any  climate  in  the  world,  the  savages  discovered  four  gentlemen 
aud  one  boy  seated  at  the  table.  They  fired  through  the  open 
doors  and  windows,  killing  every  inmate  of  the  house.  The 
scalps  of  the  slain  were  cut  up  and  distributed  as  before.  With 
greedy  hands  the  store  was  rifled.  Then  the  torch  was  applied, 
and  the  band  rode  away,  leaving  the  buildings  in  flames. 

Horrible  as  was  this  occurrence,  which  stands  as  the  open 
ing  of  the  Florida  war,  a  war  of  which  the  histories  are  few 
and  the  events  but  little  known,  which  is  passed  over  lightly 
by  every  historian  of  our  country,  who  is  more  careful  for  its 
fame  than  for  the  truth,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  Semi- 
noles  were  frantic  with  agitation  and  insane  with  grief,  both  at 
the  sorrows  they  had  suffered  and  at  the  exile  which  confronted 
them.  They  had  been  driven  from  the  villages  which  they  and 
their  fathers  had  inhabited  for  three  quarters  of  a  century; 
they  had  been  quarreled  with  and  hated  by  their  neighbors, 
who  for  forty  years  had  sought  only  their  destruction  or  exile, 
and  the  robbery  of  their  lands.  Houseless  and  homeless,  they 
had  roamed  restlessly  through  the  peninsula,  angry  with  them 
selves  and  embittered  by  hatred  for  their  enemies.  Their 
braves  had  been  arrested  and  placed  in  irons ;  their  hunting 
parties  had  been  robbed  and  murdered. 

The  territorial  legislature,  in  a  petition  to  congress,  had 
accused  them  of  the  violation  of  a  treaty,  into  which  their 
chiefs  had  been  entrapped,  and  to  which  the  nation  at  large 
had  never  agreed.  Guilty  of  much,  they  had,  nevertheless, 
been  charged  with  murders  which  they  did  not  commit,  and 
slandered  for  outrages  of  which  they  were  innocent.  Their 
exile  was  demanded  on  the  strength  of  a  treaty  alleged  to 


PIONEER  WOMEN  INCITING  INDIANS  TO  VIOLENCE.  (See  page  962.) 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  691 

have  been  made  with  the  exploring  party  sent  to  Arkansas, 
which  the  chiefs  themselves  repudiated  as  a  forgery.  Their 
most  trusted  leaders  had  been  corrupted  with  money,  and  their 
hereditary  chiefs  had  been  bribed  with  presents.  The  suffering 
Seminoles,  unlike  the  Indians  of  other  portions  of  the  country, 
could  not  retreat  from  the  aggressions  of  the  white  men  farther 
into  the  wilderness.  Nature  had  hemmed  them  in  by  sea  and 
gulf.  For  them  there  were  but  two  alternatives,  exile  or  war. 

The  Indians  were  by  no  means  idle.  One  hundred  troops 
were  marching  from  Fort  Brooke  to  the  help  of  Fort  King, 
where  the  above  outrages  were  committed.  They  were  discov 
ered  passing  through  an  immense  swamp.  The  Indians,  two 
hundred  in  number,  commanded  by  Jumper  and  Alligator, 
posted  themselves  on  the  west  side  of  the  road.  Every  war 
rior  was  protected  or  concealed  amid  the  broad  leaves  of  the 
high  palmettos.  On  the  other  side  of  the  road  was  a  deep 
pond.  Just  as  the  troops  arrived  at  this  point,  where  they 
were,  so  to  speak,  between  the  devil  and  the  deep  water,  the 
ambushed  Indians  fired.  Alligator  says,  "  The  soldiers  shouted 
and  whooped,  and  the  officers  shook  their  swords  and  swore." 

They  seem  to  have  done  no  more  effective  fighting.  A  can 
non  was  loaded  and  fired  a  time  or  two,  but  the  balls  hissed 
harmlessly  through  the  air,  and  fell  with  dull  thuds  far  back  in 
the  swamp.  Almost  every  white  man  was  killed  on  the  spot. 
Six  got  away,  and  endeavored  to  build  a  log  barricade  or  pen, 
behind  which  they  would  be  safe.  The  negroes,  who  formed 
powerful  and  ferocious  allies  of  the  Seminoles,  attacked  the  rude 
rampart.  When  they  clambered  over  the  logs,  only  three  men 
were  found  alive  in  the  pen.  Two  of  these  were  killed  outright. 
The  third  snatched  a  rifle  from  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  and 
with  a  terrific  blow  brained  his  opponent.  He  swiftly  leaped 
over  the  logs,  and  started  down  the  road  at  full  speed.  Two 
Indians  on  horseback  gave  chase,  and,  firing  from  a  distance, 
killed  him.  Every  man  but  two  in  the  command  was  killed. 
The  Indians  lost  only  three  warriors. 


692  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  whole  Seminole  country  seemed  to  burst  into  flames  at 
once.  Sixteen  plantations  in  East  Florida,  upon  each  of  which 
were  employed  over  a  hundred  negroes,  together  with  sugar 
mills,  cotton  gins,  storehouses,  and  fine  residences,  were  com 
pletely  destroyed  during  the  month  of  January,  1836.  The 
wealthiest  people  fled  through  the  swamps  for  their  lives,  desti 
tute  of  the  common  necessaries  of  life.  None  could  tell  at  what 
moment  or  in  what  manner  they  would  be  assailed,  and  subjected 
to  the  most  cruel  and  brutal  death.  "  In  some  instances  the 
lives  of  mothers  were  spared,  that  they  might  see  their  children 
cut  in  pieces,  and  their  limbs  used  as  weapons  to  assail  the 
living." 

A  Frenchman,  traveling  in  Florida  in  1851,  heard  the  story 
of  the  destruction  of  one  of  these  planter's  homes,  from  his 
guide,  and  published  it  in  Paris.  Though  no  date  was  given,  the 
affair  doubtless  occurred  early  in  the  war.  The  guide  had  been 
a  member  of  a  company  of  volunteers,  who  were  encamped  on 
the  shores  of  the  St.  John's  River.  One  day  a  negro  was 
observed  swimming  the  river.  He  directed  his  course  to  the 
camp.  As  he  touched  the  shore  he  ran  toward  the  soldiers,  all 
dripping  with  the  water,  explaining  in  agitated  tones  that  the 
Indians  were  attacking  the  house  of  Mr.  Montgomery,  his  master, 
and  begging  for  help. 

A  party  of  men  hastily  prepared  to  accompany  the  slave  to 
the  threatened  mansion,  which  was  some  little  distance  above, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  St.  John's.  The  place  was  found  to 
be  well  defended,  and  in  no  immediate  danger,  as  the  Indians 
had  been  gone  for  some  hours.  Montgomery,  however,  expressed 
great  fears  for  the  safety  of  his  neighbor,  Motte,  who  lived  some 
miles  farther  up  the  river.  Leaving  a  guard  at  Montgomery's, 
the  men  started  on  to  Motte's. 

When  within  a  short  distance  of  the  house,  which  was  spa 
cious  and  elegant,  the  soldiers  discovered  smoke  and  flames 
beginning  to  issue  from  the  windows.  No  Indians  were  in  sight. 
Hurrying  forward,  the  men  entered  the  burning  building.  The 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  693 

owner  seemed  to  be  absent,  yet  he  could  not  have  been  gone 
long.  The  rooms,  with  their  elegant  furniture,  which  one  after 
another  were  being  reached  by  the  flames,  gave  evidence  of 
recent  occupation. 

Pushing  on  into  the  parlor,  the  soldiers  discovered  the  scene 
of  an  awful  tragedy.  Four  mutilated  corpses,  yet  warm  with 
life,  were  lying  on  the  floor.  One  was  that  of  an  old  man,  Mr. 
Motte  himself.  He  was  on  the  floor,  partially  leaning  against 
the  wall.  He  had  been  scalped,  and  the  blood  still  trickled 
down  his  pallid  features,  and  reddened  all  his  snow-white  beard. 
Right  by  him  lay  the  mangled  form  of  his  youngest  daughter.  A 
few  feet  off  were  the  two  other  beautiful  daughters  lying,  scalped 
and  lifeless.  There  had  been  a  struggle ;  the  old  man  still 
grasped  his  gun,  and  the  oldest  daughter  still  held  in  her  jew 
eled  hand  a  large  pistol.  The  apartment,  with  its  handsome 
fittings,  was  already  full  of  fire.  The  floor  and  walls  were  in 
a  blaze ;  the  garments  of  the  dead  were  burning. 

Swift  hands  snatched  the  corpses  from  the  flames,  and  bore 
them  out  for  interment.  Just  as  they  were  about  to  leave  the 
doomed  house,  which  was  now  filled  with  a  frightful  roar  from 
the  flames,  tthe  soldiers  heard  a  shriek.  The  next  moment,  an 
old  lady,  scalped  and  bloody,  but  yet  living,  the  mother  of  the 
girls,  sprung  toward  the*m.  She  was  tenderly  transported  to  a 
place  of  safety,  and  survived  for  a  year  or  so. 

In  the  yard  the  men  found  the*  body  of  the  colored  gard 
ener.  One  man  stopped  to  water  his  horse.  He  heard  .a  low 
cry  from  the  marsh.  Advancing  cautiously,  he  found  a  poor 
mulatto  girl,  half-dead  with  fright.  She  had  been  lying  in  the 
swamp  for  hours.  From  her  the  story  of  the  tragedy  was 
learned.  She  had  gone  to  get  some  water  for  the  house,  when 
Indians  were  discovered  climbing  the  garden  wall.  The  family 
were  at  the  time  out  in  the  garden  gathering  flowers.  They 
had  time  to  reach  the  house  and  barricade  the  doors.  The 
colored  gardener  sought  to  join  them,  but  was  killed  on  the 
way.  The  mulatto  girl  being  too  far  away  to  reach  the  house. 


694  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

fled  to  the  marsh.  Here  she  endured  agony,  but  it  was  not 
the  agony  of  death.  She  saw  the  Indians  surround  the  house. 
She  heard  their  demand  for  surrender,  and  the  refusal  of  the 
inmates.  She  saw  the  doors  battered  down,  heard  the  shots, 
the  shrieks,  the  moans.  Then  there  had  been  a  silence.  For 
an  hour  or  two  the  Indians  remained  in  the  house,  ransack 
ing  it.  At  last  they  came  forth  with  their  plunder,  fired  the 
house,  and  disappeared  in  the  hammock.  For  many  years  the 
ruined  mansion  bore  the  name  of  the  House  of  Blood. 

Two  months  after  the  massacre  of  Major  Dade's  command, 
General  Gaines,  who  with  a  considerable  force  from  New 
Orleans  had  reached  the  scene  of  hostilities,  came  upon  the 
spot  where  the  awful  tragedy  had  been  enacted.  Here  was  a 
cart  amid  a  lot  of  broken  and  scattered  boxes.  The  two  oxen 
were  lying  dead,  their  yokes  still  on  them.  A  little  farther  on 
were  the  offensive  remains  of  some  horses.  Next  the  men 
came  upon  a  little  triangular  breastwork  of  logs.  A  soldier 
counted  the  corpses,  by  that  time  almost  skeletons,  lying  within 
the  triangle.  There  were  thirty  of  them.  They  were  lying  in 
a  regular  row,  parallel  to  each  other,  behind  the  barricade,  their 
heads  next  to  the  logs  over  which  they  had  fired,  and  their 
bodies  stretched  out  on  the  ground.  They  had  been  shot  dead 
in  their  ranks,  and  lay  in  death  as  they  had  fought  in  life. 

A  little  farther  on,  other  bodies  were  found  lying  along  the 
road.  Behind  every  tree,  log,  or  even  bush,  to  which  the  men 
had  resorted  for  cover,  was  one  or  more  corpses.  At  one  spot, 
two  hundred  yards  down  the  road,  lay  a  cluster  of  bodies  in 
regular  ranks,  like  the  others.  This  had  been  the  advance 
guard.  The  soldiers  were  overwhelmed  with  horror.  If  such 
was  the  beginning,  what  would  be  the  end  of  the  war  ? 

Their  apprehensions  were  indeed  justified.  The  very  first 
movement  in  the  war  was  a  terrible  blunder.  General  Gaines, 
finding  no  supplies  at  Fort  King,  resolved  to  withdraw  to  Fort 
Brooke,  on  Tampa  Bay.  On  the  way,  while  crossing  a  river, 
an  immense  force  of  warriors  attacked  him.  A  rude  breastwork 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  697 

of  logs  was  hastily  thrown  up,  and  a  runner  dispatched  to  Fort 
Drane,  ordering  General  Clinch  to  hurry  forward  with  all  his 
troops  and  supplies,  and  take  the  Indians,  numbering  more  than 
fifteen  hundred  braves,  in  the  rear,  while  Gaines  attacked  them 
in  the  front. 

While  the  army,  pinched  with  hunger  and  annoyed  by  the 
Indians,  remained  quiet  in  their  fortified  camp  awaiting  Clinch, 
an  old  negro  named  Caesar  came  up  to  the  lines,  and  shouted 
"  that  the  Indians  were  tired  of  fighting,  and  wished  to  come  in 
;:nd  shake  hands."  In  pursuance  of  arrangements  made  with  this 
embassador,  a  large  number  of  warriors  without  their  arms, 
assembled  under  a  flag  of  truce  about  five  hundred  yards  from 
the  camp.  Midway  between  the  hostile  armies  three  chiefs  met 
a  like  number  of  American  officers,  and  arranged  a  temporary 
cessation  of  hostilities.  The  Indians  were  to  withdraw  to  the 
south  side  of  the  Withlacoochie,  and  remain  there  until  a  per 
manent  peace  was  concluded.  At  that  moment,  General  Clinch, 
from  Fort  Drane  came  in  sight,  and  supposing  the  assemblage  of 
Indians  to  be  a  hostile  one,  instantly  charged  upon  them,  inflict 
ing  great  slaughter.  So  the  conference  broke  up,  and  the 
Indians,  freshly  enraged,  fled  to  their  towns,  swearing  new 
oaths  of  vengeance. 

On  the  twenty-second  day  of  February  Major-General  Scott 
arrived  in  Florida,  assuming  command  of  the  American  forces. 
From  the  first  all  his  efforts  met  with  embarrassment  and  fail 
ure.  His  troops  almost  starved  before  rations  could  be  had. 
In  attempting  a  forward  movement,  large  numbers  of  his  pro 
vision  wagons  and  horses  were  swept  away  in  fording  a  river. 
Such  provision  as  was  rescued  was  exposed  to  a  tremendous 
rain  of  many  days,  and  ruined.  The  stormy  weather  delayed 
the  movement  of  troops,  and  the  exposure  caused  large  numbers 
of  the  men,  unused  to  the  climate,  to  be  attacked  with  malig 
nant  fevers.  The  cannon  mired  in  bottomless  bogs.  Generals 
Gaines  and  Clinch  refused  to  co-operate  with  Scott,  and  a  bitter 
quarrel  broke  out  between  the  commanders. 


698  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Assailed  by  these  overwhelming  difficulties,  the  army  was 
compelled  to  straggle  back  to  Fort  Drane  to  escape  starvation. 
They  arrived  there  famished  and  fever-stricken,  only  to  find 
that  General  Gaines,  who  had  not  been  expected  in  that  part 
of  the  country,  had  deliberately  appropriated  nineteen  thousand 
rations  to  his  own  use.  Nevertheless  General  Scott,  misled  by 
dishonest  scouts,  utterly  ignorant  of  the  geography  of  a  coun 
try  which  consisted  of  dense  and  impassable  jungles,  into  which 
the  light  of  day  never  penetrated,  and  of  endless  swamps,  inter 
spersed  with  bottomless  bayous  and  salt  lagoons,  managed  to 
send  out  numerous  detachments  in  all  directions  to  search  for 
the  enemy,  whose  whereabouts  was  utterly  unknown.  The 
Indians,  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  country,  led  these  detach 
ments  on  wild  and  fatiguing  chases  only  to  disappear  from  view 
entirely,  and  fall  upon  the  worn  soldiery  as  they  attempted  to 
make  their  way  back  to  their  commander.  Meanwhile  the 
heated  season  coming  on,  together  with  scanty  water  from  poi 
sonous  pools,  made  the  condition  of  the  men  still  more  intoler 
able.  In  short,  the  campaign  was  an  utter  and  ruinous  failure. 

About  the  first  of  June,  General  Call  assumed  command  of 
the  army.  He,  however,  though  liaving  several  engagements 
with  the  enemy,  met  with  no  better  success  than  his  predeces 
sor.  His  principal  undertaking  was  to  send  a  strong  detach 
ment  against  the  enemy,  which  were  supposed  to  be  posted  in 
large  numbers  in  the  great  Wahoo  swamp. 

After  a  journey  of  incomparable  difficulty,  the  men  wading 
much  of  the  time  up  to  their  armpits  in  mire  and  water,  the 
enemy  was  met  in  great  strength.  In  endeavoring  to  dislodge 
them  from  a  vast  morass,  the  men  themselves  became  entangled 
in  its  deceitful  depths.  The  loss  was  heavy,  although  the 
engagement  was  accounted  a  victory.  At  night,  however,  it 
was  deemed  impossible  to  remain  or  to  risk  another  engage 
ment.  The  horses  were  dying  for  want  of  food.  The  ammuni 
tion  was  exhausted.  The  supplies,  too,  were  gone.  They  had 
been  lost  in  the  difficulties  of  the  advance.  There  remained 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  699 

nothing  to  be  done  except  a  disastrous  and  painful  retreat.  On 
the  27th  of  November,  1836,  General  Call  was  succeeded  by 
General  Jessup.  The  latter  pushed  the  campaign  with  vigor. 
As  the  summer  approached  the  Indians  themselves,  who  had 
been  accustomed  to  subsist  on  agricultural  productions,  were 
compelled  to  sue  for  peace.  They  again  agreed  to  withdraw  to 
Arkansas,  and  hostilities,  for  the  time  being,  ceased. 

By  agreement  large  numbers  of  the  Seminoles  assembled  in 
a  camp  near  Fort  Brooke,  preparatory  to  an  embarkation  on 
government  vessels  for  transportation  to  Arkansas.  The  old 
chief  Micanopy  had  been  largely  instrumental  in  this  consent 
to  the  exile  of  his  people.  He  was  encamped  with  hundreds 
of  his  followers  at  Fort  Brooke,  ready  to  bid  a  last  farewell  to 
the  country  he  loved,  and  seek  a  new  home  in  the  barren  wil 
derness  west  of  the  Mississippi.  On  the  night  of  the  4th  of 
June  two  dark  forms  made  their  way  through  the  sleeping 
Indian  camp  toward  the  wigwam  of  old  Micanopy.  They  were 
Osceola  and  Coacooche,  the  young  and  ferocious  chiefs  of  the 
Avar-party.  With  noiseless  tread  they  entered  the  rude  apart 
ment,  unsheathed  their  glittering  knives  and  roused  the  old 
chief  from  his  slumbers.  With  whispered  words  they  told  him 
that  he  was  a  traitor  to  his  people,  that  as  they  had  sworn  to 
kill  the  first  Indian  who  should  prepare  to  remove  from  Flor 
ida,  and  had  fulfilled  their  oath  by  the  slaughter  of  Charley 
Mathlar,  so  now  they  had  sworn  to  take  the  life  of  Micanopy 
as  that  of  a  traitor,  unless  he  at  once  consented  to  arouse  the 
sleeping  camp  and  lead  the  people  before  the  break  of  day  in  a 
flight  to  the  south,  where  they  would  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
the  American  army,  and  thus  again  foil  the  schemes  of  the  ene 
mies  of  the  Seminoles  to  drive  them  into  cruel  exile. 

The  old  man  heard  the  whispered  threats  of  the  dark  con 
spirators.  He  was  timid  and  irresolute.  He  doubted  himself 
whether  he  was  not,  as  they  hissed  through  their  teeth  in  the 
darkness,  a  traitor  to  his  people.  He  still  hesitated.  Osceola 
uplifted  his  right  hand,  from  which  the  bright  blade  glistened 


700  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

in  the  starlight,  to  plunge  the  dagger  into  the  chieftain's  heart. 
Agitated  beyond  measure,  the  old  man  gave  his  consent  to  their 
demand.  Dark  messengers  passed  swiftly  and  noiselessly  from 
tent  to  tent,  rousing  the  occupants,  and  conveying  the  order 
of  their  chief  to  prepare  for  instant  flight.  Not  a  question  was 
asked.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  every  one  of  the  seven  hun 
dred  Indians  was  proceeding  through  the  forest  without  so  much 
noise  as  would  come  from  the  breaking  of  a  twig  or  the  rustle 
of  a  dried  palmetto  leaf. 

At  sunrise,  General  Jessup,  proud  and  pleased  at  the  appar 
ent  termination  of  the  war,  rose  to  give  orders  for  the  embarka 
tion  of  the  exiles.  In  a  half  an  hour  he  repaired  to  the  spot 
where  the  Indian  camp  had  been  pitched.  To  his  dismay  and 
astonishment,  he  found  only  a  few  bare  poles  from  the  wigwams. 
The  whole  Indian  assemblage  had  fled,  and  were  many  miles 
away,  beyond  the  reach  of  successful  pursuit.  On  that  day 
General  Jessup,  the  third  commander-in-chief  of  the  Florida 
army,  tendered  his  resignation.  He  continued  in  actual  com 
mand,  however,  until  the  15th  of  May,  1838. 

To  General  Hernandez  the  commander-in-chief  intrusted  the 
military  operations  of  a  campaign  in  East  Florida,  along  the 
Atlantic  coast.  On  the  9th  of  September,  1837,  Hernandez 
succeeded  in  capturing  King  Philip,  a  noted  Seminole  chief  of 
intelligence  and  influence,  and  the  father  of  Coacoochee.  The 
chieftain,  finding  himself  in  the  toils  of  his  enemies,  sent  word 
to  his  distinguished  son,  earnestly  requesting  him  to  come  and 
confer  with  his  father.  Coacoochee  was  brave.  Moreover,  he 
had  a  special  mission  to  perform  for  Osceola.  Placing  a  large 
white  plume  in  his  hat,  he  boldly  visited  the  camp  of  Hernan 
dez,  accompanied  by  Blue  Snake,  another  chief. 

On  being  shown  into  the  presence  of  the  American  general, 
Coacoochee  presented  him  with  a  handsome  peace  pipe,  from  the 
great  Osceola,  accompanied  by  a  request  for  a  conference.  To 
this  proposition  Hernandez  acceded,  and  Coacoochee  departed 
with  a  message  to  Osceola,  to  the  effect  that  he  might  have  a 

I 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  701 

council  with  the  American  general.  On  the  appointed  day,  Coa- 
coochee  returned  to  General  Hernandez  with  information  that 
Osceola,  with  a  hundred  warriors,  was  on  his  way  to  St.  Augus 
tine,  for  the  appointed  peace  talk.  Hernandez,  with'  a  design  in 
his  mind  which,  whether  inspired  by  his  commander  or  originated 
by  himself,  bears  the  ear-marks  of  a  deep  and  damnable  treach 
ery,  eager  to  get  the  game  in  his  trap,  hurried  forward  to  meet 
Osceola.  Seven  miles  southwest  of  St.  Augustine,  he  met  the 
distinguished  Indian  chieftain,  and  entered  into  a  conference. 

He  at  once  commenced  to  question  Osceola  closely  as  to  the 
purposes  and  plans  of  the  Indians.  While  the  conversation  was 
progressing,  the  council  was  quickly  and  quietly  surrounded  by 
an  overwhelming  force  of  American  soldiers.  With  quick  intui 
tion,  Osceola  read  the  sinister  purposes  of  his  enemy.  As  the 
questions  were  put  to  him  he  looked  nervously  about  him  at 
the  surrounding  military,  gave  a  few  vague  and  uneasy  replies, 
and  then  lapsed  into  silence.  Overcome  by  uncontrollable  emo 
tion,  he  turned  to  Coa-Hajo,  and  said,  "  I  feel  choked ;  you  must 
speak  for  me." 

Seeing  that  his  purposes  were  discovered,  Hernandez  gave  a 
signal,  and  in  a  moment  Osceola  and  his  little  band  of  braves 
were  made  prisoners  without  a  struggle.  The  date  of  this 
infamy  was  October  22,  1837.  Osceola  and  his  companions 
were  at  once  placed  in  irons  and  thrown  into  the  dungeon  of 
the  castle  of  St.  Marco,  at  St.  Augustine. 

Notwithstanding  the  treachery  by  which  he  had  been 
betrayed,  Osceola  communicated  with  Hernandez,  and  proposed 
to  send  a  message  to  his  people  and  their  chiefs,  recommending 
them  to  come  in  and  consent  to  an  exile  to  Arkansas.  This 
proposition  was  agreed  to.  The  messengers  were  sent.  A 
council  was  held,  and  the  scheme  promised  well.  It  however 
met  with  a  sudden  interruption.  Coacoochee  and.  his  friend 
Talmus  Hadjo  were  immured  in  another  of  the  dark  and  mys 
terious  dungeons  in  the  castle  of  St.  Marco,  at  St.  Augustine, 
the  most  ancient  military  work  in  the  United  States. 

39 


702  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

While  Osceola  in  one  part  of  the  old  structure  was  planning 
for  a  submission  by   his  people   to  exile,  Coacoochee  and  his 


OSCEOLA. 

friend  weary  with   studying   the    arms   of   Spain,  which    were 
carved    on   the    walls   of  their    prison   cell,  and   growing   more 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  70o 

languid  and  sickly  day  by  day  from  the  confinement,  resolved 
to  escape,  or  die  in  the  effort.  They  occupied  an  apartment 
about  eighteen  feet  square,  with  walls  of  stone,  and  a  lofty 
ceiling.  The  only  window  through  which  they  received  light 
and  air,  and  consequently  the  only  chance  for  escape,  was  a 
small  embrasure  eighteen  feet  from  the  floor.  From  this  aper 
ture  to  the  bottom  of  the  ditch  on  the  outside,  was  more  than 
fifty  feet.  The  two  prisoners  examined  the  hole  attentively, 
and  saw  that  it  was  exceedingly  small,  but  believed  that  they 
might  possibly  squeeze  through  it. 

All  their  preparations  had  to  be  carried  on  in  complete 
silence,  as  a  sentinel  stood  constantly  at  the  door  of  the  cell. 
With  deft  fingers  the  prisoners  tore  into  strips  a  few  forage 
bags  which  formed  their  bed,  and  wove  them  into  a  rude  rope. 
The  first  thing  was  to  reach  the  embrasure.  Again  and  again 
Coacoochee  stood  on  the  shoulders  of  his  companion  and  strained 
himself  to  the  utmost  to  reach  the  sill.  All  in  vain;  the  win 
dow  remained  two  feet  above  his  fingers. 

At  last  the  prisoners  managed  to  secrete  a  knife.  Standing 
on  the  shoulders  of  his  companion,  Coacoochee  gradually  worked 
it  into  a  crevice  in  the  rock  as  high  up  as  he  could  reach.  When 
the  blade  and  half  of  the  short,  heavy  handle  had  been  inserted 
the  other  part  of  the  handle  remained  a  stout  and  serviceable 
peg,  by  means  of  which  the  athletic  Indian  raised  himself  to 
the  embrasure.  He  found  it  small,  but  believed  that  if  he  and 
his  companion  could  get  rid  of  their  flesh  they  might  get 
through.  They  at  once  feigned  sickness,  and  procured  through 
their  guards  some  roots,  of  which  they  knew  the  effect.  For 
three  weeks  the  prisoners  abstained  almost  entirely  from  food, 
taking  large  quantities  of  the  medicinal  root,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  time  were  little  more  than  skin  and  bone. 

On  a  certain  night,  when  there  would  be  no  moon,  they 
resolved  to  attempt  their  escape.  During  the  evening  the 
keeper  came  in  frequently,  annoying  the  prisoners  so  much 
that  they  almost  resolved  to  seize  and  gag  him.  They  more 


704  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

prudently  pretended  to  be  asleep,  and  at  last  the  keeper  came 
no  more.  Taking  one  end  of  the  rope  in  his  hand,  Coacoochee 
once  more  climbed  up  to  the  embrasure.  Here  he  made  fast 
the  rope,  letting  one  end  hang  down  inside  for  his  friend,  who 
was  to  follow,  and  dangling  the  other  end  down  toward  the 
ditch.  With  great  difficulty  the  Indian  forced  his  body  through 
the  aperture.  Great  strips  of  skin  were  torn  from  him.  But 
with  a  capacity  for  the  endurance  of  physical  suffering  which 
only  an  Indian  could  have,  he  resolutely  persisted.  He  lay 
hold  of  the  rope  on  the  outside  with  his  hands,  and  descended 
head  foremost  till  he  had  dragged  his  feet  through  the  embras 
ure,  and  at  last  leaped  to  the  ground. 

Though  terribly  wounded  he  was  unconscious  of  the  painy 
and  turned  all  his  thoughts  to  the  arrival  of  his  comrade.  At 
length  he  heard  the  struggle  of  his  companion  far  above  him. 
There  was  a  low  gasp  of  despair.  The  man  had  forced  his  head 
and  shoulders  into  the  hole  and  was  caught  fast,  being  unable 
to  move  either  backward  or  forward.  Coacoochee  called  to  him 
in  the  lowest  possible  tone  to  keep  calm  and  rest  for  a  moment, 
then  to  force  out  all  his  breath  and  at  the  same  instant  endeavor 
to  move  an  inch  or  so.  For  a  few  moments  Coacoochee  could 
hear  his  friend  following  this  advice,  when  suddenly  he  was 
alarmed  to  find  him  tumbling  head  foremost  down  the  whole 
distance.  Extricating  himself  with  a  sudden  jerk,  the  rope 
had  broken. 

As  he  lay  on  the  ground  a  confused  and  bloody  mass,  Coa 
coochee  thought  him  dead.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  the  danger 
of  discovery,  he  dragged  his  companion  to  a  pool  of  water, 
which  revived  him.  The  poor  fellow  was  so  lame  that  he  could 
not  walk  a  step.  It  was  almost  dawn.  In  a  short  time  their 
escape  would  be  discovered.  Although  himself  weak  from  ema 
ciation  and  wounds,  Coacoochee  placed  his  friend  on  his  back, 
and  started  to  the  nearest  woods.  Before  long  he  caught  sight 
of  a  mule,  which  he  captured.  The  two  Indians  mounted. 
Forcing  the  animal  to  its  highest  speed,  and  guiding  it  solely 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  705 

by  seizing  its  ears,  Coacoochee  and  his  friend  hurried  across 
the  country  with  which  they  were  so  familiar.  After  five  days 
they  arrived  among  their  people. 

Coacoochee's  emaciation  and  wounds  spoke  eloquently  of 
what  he  had  endured.  Nevertheless  he  rested  not  until  he  had 
told  them  the  story  of  the  treachery  by  which  he  and  Osceola 
had  been  betrayed,  and  of  their  confinement  in  loathsome  cells. 
Alarmed  and  suspicious,  the  other  chiefs  at  once  abandoned  all 
idea  of  further  conference  or  communication  with  the  Americans. 

Poor  Osceola,  the  master-spirit  of  the  war,  who  had  risen 
from  the  ranks  of  the  humblest  warriors  by  dint  of  his  lofty 
genius,  had  at  least  twice  confronted  not  only  the  Americans, 
but  all  of  the  leading  chiefs  of  his  own  people,  and,  overcoming 
the  latter,  had  resisted  the  demands  of  the  enemies  of  the 
Seminoles  for  their  exile  from  Florida ;  who  had  hurled  the 
united  nation  against  the  Americans  for  two  years,  foiling  all 
their  efforts  and  defeating  all  their  armies,  languished  and  pined 
in  his  lonely  cell  at  St.  Augustine.  The  high  independence  of 
feeling,  which  had  never  before  known  restraint,  became  enfee 
bled,  and  sunk  as  the  chances  of  escape  passed  away.  His 
proud  spirit  was  broken  by  -defeat  and  imprisonment.  For 
greater  security  he  was  removed  from  St.  Augustine  to  Fort 
Moultrie,  Charleston  Harbor.  This  removal  plunged  him  into 
a  melancholy  which  never  left  him.  Hope  was  gone,  and  the 
conviction  that  he  was  forever  banished  from  his  native  land 
weighed  and  wore  upon  his  spirits  until  nature  became  ex 
hausted.  He  declined  to  see  visitors,  and,  refusing  all  suste 
nance,  sat  alone  in  his  dark  dungeon  brooding,  brooding  over  the 
mighty  sorrows  of  his  people  and  the  overwhelming  disasters 
which  had  befallen  him. 

One  morning,  when  his  keeper  came  to  the  cell,  he  called  to 
Osceola,  but  the  young  chieftain  did  not  reply.  He  called  again, 
louder  and  more  sharply,  but  no  answer  came  save  the  mocking 
echo  from  the  stone  walls  of  the  dungeon.  Suspicious  and 
alarmed,  the  man  procured  help  and  opened  the  door  of  the  dun- 


706 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


geon.  Groping  around  by  the  light  of  a  tallow  candle  to  the 
spot  where  lay  a  heap  of  mouldy  straw,  which  formed  the  bed 
of  the  prisoner,  there  they  found  him  cold  and  unresponsive  in 
death.  At  the  age  of  thirty-three  years  the  young,  the  brill 
iant,  the  great  Osceola,  a  brave  and  generous  enemy,  a  proud 
and  manly  man,  the  noblest  offspring  of  his  suffering  people, 
died  thus  of  a  broken  heart. 

In  December,  1837,  Colonel  Zachary  Taylor,  at  the  head  of 

a  thousand  men  ad 
vanced  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  into 
the  enemy's  coun 
try,  through  an  un- 
explored  wilder 
ness  of  jungles  and 
bayous,  crossing  a 
dozen  streams 
every  day,  over 
which  there  were 
no  bridges,  and 
traveling  without 
guides  in  the  face 
of  a  numerous  and 
powerful  foe. 
Toward  the  latter 
part  of  the  month 

ZACHARY  TAYLOR.  ft^y    came    Up    with 

a  large  body  of  warriors,  commanded  by  Alligator.  The  Indians 
were  encamped  on  the  hard  sandy  beach  on  the  north  side  of 
the  great  Lake  Okeechobee.  Between  the  whites  and  the 
Indians  lay  a  morass  three  quarters  of  a  mile  wide,  covered 
with  a  thick  growth  of  saw-grass  five  feet  high  and  three  feet 
deep  in  mud  and  water.  The  swamp  extended  on  either  side 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  It  was  totally  impassable  for 
horses,  and  nearly  so  for  men. 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  707 

The  soldiers  dismounted,  and  relieving  themselves  of  all 
unnecessary  weight,  prepared  to  cross  the  morass  and  give  bat 
tle  to  the  enemy.  In  spots  where  the  mire  was  deep  enough  for 
a  man  to  sink  out  of  sight  in  its  treacherous  depths,  the  Indians 
had  cut  down  the  grass,  so  as  to  lure  the  troops  into  the  fatal 
trap.  Notwithstanding  these  difficulties,  the  Americans  gave 
battle,  and  after  several  hours  of  hard  fighting  came  out  victo 
rious.  At  nightfall  it  was  necessary  to  commence  the  inevitable 
retreat,  which  no  victory,  however  complete,  could  prevent ;  for 
in  this  remarkable  war  the  impossibility  of  transporting  provis 
ions  for  more  than  a  few  days  through  the  aqueous  wilderness 
embarrassed  and  crippled  the  American  army  from  first  to  last. 
In  order  to  retrace  their  steps  through  the  swamp  in  the  dark 
ness,  and  transport  one  hundred  and  twelve  wounded  men,  rude 
litters  were  constructed,  and  a  small  foot-way  built  across  the 
swamp.  Colonel  Taylor  brought  back  his  command  without 
further  loss,  and  on  the  15th  of  May,  1838,  succeeded  General 
Jessup  as  commander-in-chief. 

We  may  not  trace  the  irregular,  laborious,  and  indecisive 
warfare  of  the  ensuing  year.  In  May,  1839,  the  Indians  again 
agreed  to  a  cessation  of  hostilities,  and  to  confine  themselves  to 
a  designated  part  of  the  peninsula.  Many  of  the  settlers,  sup 
posing  the  war  was  at  an  end,  returned  to  their  homes. 

The  throngs  of  unemployed  and  starving  people,  who  had 
fled  to  the  crowded  villages  for  safety,  again  ventured  on  their 
plantations.  Their  hopes,  however,  were  soon  scattered  to  the 
winds.  In  July  the  Indians,  irrepressible  and  invincible,  again 
began  their  outrages.  Colonel  Harney,  with  twenty-six  dra 
goons  and  three  traders,  had  proceeded  to  Charlotte's  Harbor, 
to  establish  a  trading  post  in  pursuance  of  the  agreement  with 
the  Indians.  They  were  encamped,  with  a  large  supply  of  In 
dian  goods,  in  a  pine  barren  on  the  Coloosahatchee  river.  At 
dawn  on  the  22d  of  July,  they  were  attacked  by  a  band  of  war 
riors  commanded  by  Bow  Legs.  The  men  were  overpowered  in 
their  beds,  and,  embarrassed  by  their  mosquito-bars,  were  unable 


708  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

to  make  any  effectual  resistance.  Twenty-four  were  killed,  and 
two  captured.  Colonel  Harney  and  two  companions  escaped, 
and,  after  living  for  days  on  crabs  and  oysters,  made  their  way 
home. 

And  so  the  war  was  renewed.  As  before,  the  Indians  were 
driven  from  swamp  to  swamp,  from  jungle  to  jungle,  and  from 
bayous  to  lagoons,  leading  the  exhausted,  famished,  and  fever- 
stricken  troops  hither  and  yon  in  fruitless  chases  over  a  region 
of  country  embracing  more  than  45,000  square  miles. 

The  territorial  legislature  saw,  as  every  one  saw,  that  the 
Indians,  hemmed  in  by  the  sea  and  unable  to  fly,  would  fight 
until  the  last  brave  was  exterminated.  This  war  would  cost 
the  lives  of  four  or  five  white  men  to  every  Indian  that  was 
killed.  So  the  legislature  resolved  upon  an  expedient.  They 
sent  to  Havana,  and  purchased  at  an  enormous  expense  the 
most  famous  kennel  of  blood-hounds  in  the  world.  With  these 
animals,  which  had  been  trained  to  the  pursuit  of  fugitive  slaves, 
it  was  purposed  to  hunt  out  the  Indians,  and  by  this  means 
track,  overpower,  and  kill.  Five  experienced  Spaniards  accom 
panied  the  troop  of  blood-hounds.  They  were  attached  to  each 
column  of  troops,  attended  by  tkeir  keepers.  The  animals  were 
fed  liberally  upon  bloody  meat,  to  supply  which  young  calves 
accompanied  each  detachment,  amd  then,  being  put  upon  the 
Indian  trail,  started  forward  in  the  horrible  and  fiendish  pursuit. 
Such  were  the  means  adopted  in  the  nineteenth  century  to  drive 
a  people  from  the  land  which  was  their  own. 

The  Spanish  Indians  inhabiting  the  southern  extremity  of 
the  peninsula,  finding  themselves  encroached  upon  more  and 
more  by  their  brethren  from  the  north,  who,  amid  hardships 
which  it  is  impossible  to  imagine,  much  more  to  describe,  were 
gradually  being  beaten  back  by  the  whites,  now  began  to  take 
a  hand  in  the  war.  They  pillaged  certain  unfortunate  vessels 
which  were  wrecked  upon  their  coast,  and  murdered  the  seamen. 
They  even  attacked  the  little  settlements  on  the  islands  along 
the  western  coast.  Indian  Key  was  a  small  island  about  twenty 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  709 

miles  from  the  main-land.  Here,  among  others,  lived  Doctor 
Perrine.  a  scientific  man  of  high  literary  attainments,  who,  in 
spired  by  an  enthusiasm  for  scientific  research,  had,  with  his 
family,  made  this  spot  his  home,  in  order  to  carry  forward  an 
investigation  of  the  botanical  species  of  Florida. 

On  the  7th  of  August,  1840,  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  the  Perrines,  in  common  with  the  other  people  of  the  island, 
were  awakened  from  their  sleep  by  Indian  yells,  and  a  number 
of  shots  fired.  At  that  moment  the  glass  in  their  windows  was 
crushed  by  missiles  from  without.  Mrs.  Perrine  and  her  three 
children  hurried  down  stairs  to  a  room  from  which  a  trap-door 
led  to  the  cellar.  The  cellar  was  used  for  bathing,  the  tide  fill 
ing  it  twice  a  day.  Doctor  Perrine  saw  his  family  safely  down 
into  this  place,  and  then  returned  to  the  piazza  to  find  out  what 
was  the  matter.  Mrs.  Perrine  and  her  daughters  passed  through 
the  water  and  crawled  into  a  small  place  about  three  feet  high 
and  ten  feet  long,  constructed  of  plank  and  rocks,  through 
which  the  tide  had  access  to  the  cellar.  No  sooner  were  they 
secreted  in  this  hole  than  they  heard  the  doctor  talking  with 
the  Indians  in  Spanish,  and  telling  them  that  he  was  a  phy 
sician.  At  this  the  Indians  ran  off  with  a  shout,  joining  the 
others  in  the  work  of  pillaging,  firing  other  houses  on  the  island, 
and  massacring  the  inhabitants.  Doctor  Perrine  then  shut 
the  trap-door,  and  placed  a  heavy  chest  over  it,  determined  if 
possible,  to  conceal  the  retreat  of  his  family  and  brave  the 
worst  himself. 

At  daylight  the  Indians  returned.  They  commenced  batter 
ing  in  the  doors  and  windows.  The  doctor  fled  to  the  cupola, 
which  was  entered  by  a  heavy  trap-door.  The  Indians  swarmed 
through  the  rooms  in  search  of  the  occupants.  They  turned 
over  beds,  broke  open  closets,  and  tried  every  door  without  suc 
cess.  At  last  they  concentrated  their  efforts  on  the  heavy  door 
leading  to  the  cupola.  For  a  time  it  resisted  their  efforts. 
At  last  it  gave  way  beneath  their  terrific  assaults,  and  with 
wild  yells  the  Indians  rushed  up  mto  the  cupola  and  mas- 


710  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

sacred  the  unfortunate  man  who  had  retreated  to  that  spot. 
All  this  the  family  heard  from  their  concealment  in  the  cellar. 

At  last  the  savages  were  heard  to  descend  the  steps  and 
commence  smashing  the  crockery,  glass,  and  doors  of  the  house, 
taking  savage  joy  in  the  mere  act  of  destruction.  Trunks  and 
chests  of  clothing  were  dragged  out  of  the  house  and  loaded 
into  boats.  Two  Indians  came  around  the  house  to  the  place 
where  the  plank  covered  the  spot  in  which  Mrs.  Perrine  and 
her  children  were  concealed.  One  of  them  lifted  a  board  and 
looked  in,  but  fortunately  the  family  were  crouched  at  the  far 
ther  end  of  the  hole,  and  escaped  discovery  in  the  darkness. 

In  a  little  while  the  unhappy  people  detected  a  smell  of 
smoke.  It  grew  stronger  and  stronger.  They  could  hear  the 
roar  of  the  flames  in  the  dwelling  above.  In  a  half  an  hour  the 
rafters  gave  way,  and  the  whole  flaming  structure  fell  with  a 
terrific  crash  into  the  cellar.  The  smoke  became  intolerable. 
The  planks  above  them  took  fire.  To  avoid  suffocation  they 
plastered  their  heads  with  mud,  and  threw  the  water  constantly 
over  their  faces  as  well  as  upon  the  planks,  in  a  vain  attempt  to 
extinguish  the  flames. 

From  the  spot  where  the  family  were  concealed,  by  chance 
there  led  a  turtle-crawl.  Henry  Perrine,  a  lad,  in  spite  of  his 
mother's  entreaties,  began  to  scream  with  the  agonies  of  suffoca 
tion.  Discovering  the  turtle-crawl  through  an  opening  between 
the  posts,  he  proceeded  to  push  the  posts  aside,  and  declaring 
that  he  would  rather  be  killed  by  the  savages  than  burnt  to 
death,  attempted  to  get  out.  The  aperture,  however,  was  too 
small.  With  his  fingers  and  nails  he  tore  away  the  mud  into 
which  the  palmetto  post  was  sunk,  and  by  the  most  strenuous 
efforts  pulled  it  out  of  its  socket.  The  boy  instantly  passed 
into  the  turtle-crawl  and  out  into  the  open  air. 

Mrs.  Perrine  and  her  two  daughters,  fearful  to  follow 
the  boy,  yet  unable  to  remain  where  they  were,  dug  away 
another  post  and  passed  under  a  wharf  which  was  constructed 
at  the  spot.  On  this  structure  three  cords  of  wood  were  burn- 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  711 

ing.  The  floor  over  their  heads  was  almost  consumed,  and  the 
coals  dropped  through  upon  them  as  they  passed.  As  they 
reached  the  shore  the  whole  structure  fell  in.  Had  they  been 
a  moment  later  they  would  have  been  buried  in  a  grave  of  fire. 

Mrs.  Perrine  at  once  caught  sight  of  a  launch,  and  beckoning 
to  her  son,  who  was  crouching  neas  by,  they  waded  out  to  it  and 
sprang  aboard.  The  launch  was  grounded.  The  boy  and  the 
largest  girl  at  once  jumped  into  the  water  up  to  their  necks,  and 
managed  slowly  to  push  the  launch  off  the  shoal.  With  a  pad 
dle  and  two  poles  they  proceeded  about  a  mile,  when  they  were 
picked  up  by  a  schooner,  to  which  a  number  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  place  had  already  fled  for  refuge.  The  launch  in  which 
they  had  made  their  escape  was  one  which  the  Indians  had 
been  loading  with  plunder.  In  a  few  days  the  unhappy  family 
were  transported  to  St.  Augustine. 

The  Seminoles  were  certainly  the  most  tantalizing  of  all  the 
American  Indians.  The  entire  territory  of  Florida  was  divided 
up  among  their  chiefs,  each  of  whom  operated  in  his  own  re 
spective  section.  Sometimes  the  blow  was  one  of  open  violence, 
sometimes  of  secret  stealth,  and  not  infrequently  it  was  an 
exasperating  prank.  Of  course  the  whole  country  was  tired  of 
the  war.  The  officers  bit  eagerly  at  every  hint  at  submission 
by  the  Indians. 

In  November,  1840,  after  infinite  pains,  Halleck-Tustenuggee 
and  Tiger  Tail  were  induced  to  come  to  Fort  King.  They  re 
mained  three  or  four  days.  They  pretended  the  utmost  humility, 
and  from  their  words  one  would  have  thought  the  whole  Indian 
force  was  about  to  surrender.  They  ate  very  heartily  of  the 
provisions  of  the  fort,  and  several  times  a  day  would  request 
the  commander  to  make  some  one  of  their  band,  who  appeared 
to  have  straggled  into  the  fort  by  accident,  a  present  of  food. 
These  stragglers  would  at  once  disappear  with  the  supplies ;  no 
doubt  carrying  them  to  a  hidden  camp,  where  many  a  chuckle 
was  indulged  in  at  the  expense  of  the  Americans. 

The  officers  of  the  fort  innocently  believed  that  peace  was 


712  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

at  hand.  One  morning  they  found  that  their  artful  guests  had 
fled.  The  whole  thing  was  a  trick  to  secure  a  few  days  of  high 
living!  The  next  move  of  these  scamps  was  more  tragic.  Fif 
teen  soldiers  were  escorting  Mrs.  Montgomery  from  Micanopy 
to  a  point  eight  miles  distant,  when  they  were  attacked  by  In 
dians.  Mrs.  Montgomery  was  killed  by  a  ball  in  her  breast. 
The  handful  of  men  fought  hand  to  hand,  but  were  overpowered 
and  slain.  Considerable  plunder  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
greedy  savages.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  Cosa-Tustenuggee  was 
frightened  at  this  atrocity,  for  "  conscience  doth  make  cowards 
of  us  all."  He  came  in  soon  after  and  surrendered  to  the  whites, 
consenting  to  exile. 

All  attempts  to  track  these  marauding  parties  seemed  futile. 
The  trail  was  lost  in  the  nearest  marsh,  and  the  clue  could  not 
be  regained.  The  Indians  made  their  homes  in  the  center  of 
immense  hummocks  or  jungles.  Here,  unseen  and  unsuspected, 
their  squaws  cultivated  considerable  patches  of  land,  and  to 
these  retreats  they  fled  for  concealment  after  some  outrage. 

Halleck-Tustenuggee's  operations,  as  we  have  seen,  filled  the 
country  north,  west,  and  south  of  St.  Augustine  with  perpetual 
alarm.  In  March,  1841,  he  appeared  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Fort  Brooks,  on  the  Oklawaha  River.  A  soldier  came  out  for 
a  hunt,  and  was  shot.  The  Indians  danced  and  yelled  over  his 
body,  hoping  to  tease  the  garrison  into  coming  out  of  the  fort 
for  an  attack.  The  garrison,  believing  that  a  long  expected 
provision  train  was  being  attacked,  sallied  forth,  resolving  to  die 
in  battle  rather  than  of  starvation.  The  valor  of  the  men 
availed  to  beat  off  the  Indians  with  heavy  loss,  a  circumstance 
which  gave  their  chief  food  for  thought. 

Waxehadjo  was  a  chief,  whose  face  was  as  ugly  as  his  name, 
who  carried  on  his  bloody  warfare  near  Tampa,  on  the  West 
Florida  coast.  One  day  word  was  brought  to  Fort  Brooke,  at 
Tampa,  of  the  murder  of  a  mail  carrier  on  the  road  to  Fort 
Cross.  A  party  of  mounted  soldiers  at  once  started  in  pursuit 
of  the  murderers.  The  pursuers  came  upon  them  early  in  the 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMJNOLES. 

morning.  The  chief  and  two  Indians  were  sitting  by  a  camp- 
fire,  having  just  breakfasted  on  the  provisions  in  the  poor  mail 
man's  pouch.  In  the  midst  of  the  coals  on  which  the  meal  had 
been  cooked  they  had  placed  the  gory  head  of  the  murdered 
victim,  where  the  soldiers  were  horrified  to  see  it.  The  two 
common  Indians  succeeded  in  escaping.  The  chief  took  refuge 
in  a  pool.  The  white  men  discovered  his  hiding  place  by  some 
bubbles  coming  up  through  the  water.  Several  rifles  were  fired, 
and  a  soldier  wading  in  found  him  grasping  the  grass  in  the 
bottom,  in  the  last  agonies  of  death.  His  body  was  nailed  to 
a  tree,  "  as  a  warning  to  his  companions."  Had  an  Indian  done 
as  much  to  the  body  of  a  white  enemy,  it  would  have  been 
spoken  of  as  "  horrid  brutality." 

All  ordinary  methods  of  scouting  failing,  the  Americans  or 
ganized  "  canoe  bands,"  which  threaded  the  inland  waters  of 
Florida  to  their  innermost  recesses  to  track  out  the  Indians. 
This  plan,  which  is  another  illustration  of  the  fact  that  genius- 
for  warfare  is  really  a  genius  for  adaptation  to  the  peculiar  cir 
cumstances  of  the  war,  was,  in  a  measure,  successful.  The 
ordinary  movement  of  troops  was  entirely  inadequate  to  deal 
with  the  problem.  "  Marches  of  weeks  and  months,  through 
deep  sand  and  muddy  water,  burdened  with  a  knapsack  and 
musket,  exposed  to  a  vertical  sun  and  drenching  rains,  brought 
the  troops  no  nearer  the  enemy,  who,  with  his  rifle  and  a  few 
companions,  watched  their  weary  progress  from  day  to  day, 
intercepting  detachments  at  every  point,  with  a  fleetness,  unex 
ampled,  eluding  and  misleading  by  their  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  country.  Hardly  could  the  troops  reach  their  destination, 
before  the  section  of  the  country  which  they  had  just  left  would 
be  alarmed  by  the  inroads  of  the  Indians." 

In  January,  1841,  four  hundred  men  set  out  from  Tampa 
toward  the  Kissimmee  River.  On  the  way  the  men  built  Fort 
Carroll,  and  encamped  later  at  Fort  Gardner.  The  whole  coun 
try  was  found  to  be  overflowed.  Finding  it  impossible  to  pro 
ceed  with  their  plan,  it  was  resolved  to  attempt  an  '  interview 


714  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

with  the  great  Coacoochee,  or  Wild  Cat,  who  was  believed  to 
inhabit  an  island  in  Lake  Tohopekaliga.  Micco,  an  aged  Indian, 
friendly  to  the  Americans,  undertook  to  hunt  up  the  chief,  and 
try  to  arrange  for  a  council.  As  a  special  reason  for  believing 
that  this  might  be  secured,  the  whites  had  in  their  camp 
the  daughter  of  Coacoochee,  who  had  been  captured  in  a  skir 
mish.  The  chief  himself  had  been  committing  a  new  outrage, 
having  killed  and  robbed  a  party  of  strolling  actors  near  St. 
Augustine,  and  was  concealed  with  unusual  care. 

Micco  at  last  returned,  saying  that  Coacoochee  was  hid  in  a 
cypress  swamp,  four  days'  journey  from  the  camp,  but  that  he 
had  consented  to  come  in  and  have  a  talk.  On  the  appointed 
day  he  was  seen  approaching  the  camp,  accompanied  by  seven 
trusty  warriors.  A  qurious  sight  presented  itself.  From  the 
plunder  of  the  theatrical  party  the  Indians  had  rigged  them 
selves  out  in  all  the  gaudy  finery  of  the  stage.  Coacoochee 
was  dressed  in  the  toga  of  imperial  purple,  which  cloaked  the 
noble  form  of  Julius  Caesar.  Another  wore  the  hideous  cos 
tume  of  Richard  III.  Horatio  in  modest  garb  walked  swiftly 
by  the  side  of  Falstaff.  Scarlet  vests  and  glittering  spangles 
were  distributed  freely  among  the  singular  company. 

At  the  sound  of  her  father's  voice  Coacoochee's  daughter 
sprang  past  the  guard  at  the  door  of  her  tent,  and  ran  to  his 
open  arms.  With  the  instinct  of  a  savage  she  gave  him  at  once 
a  handful  of  broken  cartridges  and  bullets,  which  she  had  picked 
up  around  the  camp.  The  young  chief  won  the  confidence  of 
the  whites  by  his  noble  and  open  bearing  and  eloquent  tongue. 
"  The  white  man  comes ;  he  grows  pale  and  sick  here,  while  his 
red  brother  thrives  in  the  land  the  Great  Spirit  has  given  him. 
Why  may  we  not  live  here  in  peace?  The  white  men  are  as 
thick  as  the  leaves  in  the  hummock.  They  come  upon  us  thicker 
every  day.  They  may  shoot  us ;  they  may  drive  our  children 
night  and  day ;  they  may  chain  our  hands  and  feet,  but  the  red 
man's  heart  will  be  always  free."  Yet  he  ended  by  promising 
to  assemble  his  people  at  Tampa,  and  take  them  into  exile. 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  715 

Coacoochee  was  perhaps  sincere  in  his  professions.  For 
many  months  he  claimed  to  be  working  to  induce  his  tribe  to 
emigrate.  But  the  patience  of  the  whites  was  exhausted.  On 
the  21st  of  May,  1842,  he  came  to  Fort  Pierce,  as  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  do  to  request  supplies  of  whisky  and  food.  His 
arrest,  previously  decided  upon,  was  put  into  execution.  He 
was  at  first  taken  to  New  Orleans,  but  was  returned  in  chains 
to  Tampa  Bay. 

Meanwhile  the  war  proceeded  somewhat  more  favorably  for 
the  Americans,  but  with  the  usual  number  of  romantic  incidents. 
In  June  an  expedition  of  forty  trained  scouts  set  out  to  surprise 
the  camp  of  Halleck-Tustenuggee.  The  men,  after  a  fatiguing 
journey,  arrived  at  the  edge  of  a  swamp,  six  miles  wide,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  which  the  Indians  were  supposed  to  be 
encamped.  It  was  the  hour  of  midnight.  The  horses  were 
hastily  picketed,  and  every  useless  burden  left  on  the  margin 
of  the  morass.  To  the  dense  shades  of  the  cypress  swamp  was 
added  the  darkness  of  a  moonless  night.  Guided  by  stalwart 
negroes,  unable  to  see  their  hands  before  them,  marching  through 
the  water  four  feet  deep,  the  force  of  two  hundred  men  started 
across  the  swamp. 

At  daybreak  a  halt  was  called.  Just  forty-six  men  were 
present.  The  rest  were  struggling  through  the  swamps,  or  had 
ceased  all  struggles  forever.  The  men  crawled  stealthily  toward 
the  cluster  of  Indian  huts,  which  was  in  sight.  A  gun  was  fired 
when  close  to  the  lodges  to  rouse  the  occupants,  but  the  breath 
less  watchers  were  chagrined  to  discover  not  a  sign  of  life.  The 
dull  rumble  of  the  explosion  died  away  among  the  cypress-trees, 
but  no  war-whoop  met  the  ears  of  the  white  men,  and  no  sav 
ages  attempted  to  escape.  Not  a  human  being  occupied  the 
huts.  The  men  could  only  express  their  chagrin  and  disappoint 
ment,  after  all  their  fruitless  toil,  by  setting  fire  to  the  sheds. 
The  weary  march  back,  through  the  shades  of  death,  was  all 
that  remained  for  them. 

Another  band  of  scouts  scoured  the  Wahoo  swamp.     Four 


716  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

large  corn-fields  with  growing  crops  were  found  hidden  in  the 
recesses  of  the  vast  morass.  While  destroying  these,  early  one 
morning,  an  Indian  was  discovered  approaching  in  a  canoe. 
Perceiving  the  white  men,  he  instantly  put  about  and  using 
his  paddle  with  wonderful  effect,  made  every  effort  to  escape. 
Finding  himself  unable  to  avoid  his  pursuers,  he  sprang  from 
his  canoe  and  disappeared  in  the  swamp.  Several  shots  were 
fired  at  him,  and  he  was  believed  to  have  fallen.  The  soldiers 
jumped  from  their  boats  into  four  feet  of  water,  and  searched 
the  swamp  in  all  directions.  His  canoe  floated  idly  on  the  stag 
nant  water,  and  the  spot  where  the  Indian  had  jumped  was 
marked  by  the  break  in  the  heavy  green  scum,  but  the  savage 
himself  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Months  afterward  this  man 
was  captured.  He  said  that  the  soldiers  on  this  occasion  had 
passed  right  by  him  while  he  lay  concealed  in  the  water,  cover 
ing  his  face  with  a  leaf  of  a  pond  lily. 

Coacoochee  reached  Tampa  Bay  early  in  July,  1841.  On 
the  morning  of  the  4th  he  and  his  warriors,  loaded  with  chains, 
were  brought  up  on  the  deck  of  the  transport,  which  was 
anchored  in  the  harbor,  for  a  council  with  Colonel  Worth,  who 
had  become  commander-in-chief  of  the  Florida  army.  The  coun 
cil  was  a  dramatic  occasion.  The  spirit  of  the  Indians  was 
utterly  broken  by  their  misfortunes.  Colonel  Worth  spoke 
firmly  but  kindly  to  his  great  captive,  giving  him  to  understand 
that  the  war  must  end,  and  that  unless  Coacoochee  induced  his 
tribe  to  emigrate  within  a  certain  time  to  Arkansas,  that  he  and 
his  warriors  should  be  hung.  At  the  close  of  his  speech  there 
was  a  long  silence. 

At  last  a  clanking  of  chains  announced  that  Coacoochee  was 
struggling  to  his  feet  to  reply.  In  eloquent  words  he  reviewed 
his  life  and  the  misfortunes  of  his  people,  and  at  last  came  to 
the  practical  question  of  the  moment.  "You  say  I  must  end 
the  war!  Look  at  these  irons!  Can  I  go  to  my  warriors? 
Coacoochee  chained?  No;  do  not  ask  me  to  see  them.  I  never 
wish  to  tread  upon  my  land  unless  I  am  free.  If  I  can  go  to 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEM1NOLES.  717 

them  unchained,  they  will  follow  me  in ;  but  I  fear  they  will  not 
obey  me  when  I  talk  to  them  in  irons.  They  will  say  my 
heart  is  weak;  that  I  am  afraid.  Could  I  go  free  they  will 
surrender  and  emigrate." 

Of  course  this  was  impossible.  Once  more  Colonel  Worth 
assured  him  that  unless  his  people  would  come  in  by  an  ap 
pointed  day,  the  setting  sun  would  witness  his  execution.  The 
vessel  lay  two  miles  from  the  shore.  The  prisoners  were  sur 
rounded  day  and  night  by  strong  guards.  Escape  was  impos 
sible.  So  Coacoochee  accepted  the  terms. 

Five  trusty  messengers  were  released  to  carry  his  talk  to 
his  people.  To  them  he  said  :  "If  your  hearts  are  bad,  let  me 
see  them  now ;  take  them  in  your  hands  and  let  me  know  that 
they  are  false;  but  do  not,  like  dogs,  bite  me  as  soon  as  you 
turn  your  backs.  Say  to  my  band  that  my  feet  are  chained, 
yet  I  send  them  my  word  as  true  from  the  heart  as  if  I  were 
with  them.  The  great  white  chief  says  when  my  band  comes 
in,  I  shall  again  walk  free.  He  has  given  you  forty  days  to  do 
this  business  in.  Take  these  sticks;  here  are  thirty-nine,  one 
for  each  day;  this,  much  larger  than  the  rest,  with  blood  upon 
it,  is  the  fortieth.  When  the  others  are  thrown  away,  and  this 
only  remains,  say  to  my  people  that  with  the  setting  sun  Coa 
coochee  hangs  like  a  dog,  with  none  but  white  men  to  hear  his 
last  words." 

The  voice  of  the  speaker  had  sunk  almost  to  a  whisper.  The 
awed  bystanders  heard  some  broken  words,  by  which  he  sent  a 
remembrance  to  his  wife  and  child.  With  this  the  scene  ended. 
The  chains  were  taken  from  the  five  messengers,  and  they 
stepped  over  the  side  of  the  vessel  into  a  row-boat.  The  chief, 
whose  fate  they  held  in  their  hands,  stood  immovable,  following 
them  with  his  eyes  as  far  as  they  could  be  seen.  During  the 
days  that  followed  the  lines  of  anxiety  in  his  face  deepened 
perceptibly.  He  would  sit  all  day  with  his  eyes  turned  land 
ward,  looking  eagerly  for  the  appearance  of  his  people.  When 
the  sun  set  each  day  far  across  the  lonely  gulf,  without  the 

40 


718  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

arrival  of  any  Indians,  he  sighed  heavily,  and  sank  into  deeper 
•melancholy. 

Coacoochee's  people  were  loyal  to  him.  In  time  they  began 
to  gather  on  the  low  shores  of  Tampa  Bay.  The  chief's  spirits 
revived.  At  last  the  full  number  of  his  band  were  present. 
When  the  news  was  announced  the  whole  bearing  of  the  man 
changed.  From  the  humble  and  gloomy  captive,  he  altered 
suddenly  into  the  proud  and  haughty  chief.  "  Take  off  my 
irons,"  he  cried,  "  that  I  may  once  more  meet  my  warriors  like 
a  man."  This,  though  hazardous,  was  done,  that  the  promise 
of  Colonel  Worth  might  be  fulfilled.  Coacoochee  dressed  him 
self  in  his  grandest  attire.  His  breast  glittered  with  silver 
ornaments.  A  red  sash  was  bound  around  his  waist.  Three 
ostrich  plumes  ornamented  his  crimson  turban.  Impatiently 
springing  into  the  boat,  he  started  for  the  shore.  As  his  foot 
touched  the  soil,  he  drew  his  manly  form  to  its  utmost  height, 
waved  his  arms,  and  uttered  a  terrific  whoop. 

Though  Coacoochee's  tribe  had  thus  submitted,  the  work  was 
but  begun.  His  wide  influence  was  yet  to  be  exerted  over 
other  bands  and  chiefs.  Eighty  miles  south  of  Tampa  Bay, 
the  Americans  had  pitched  a  camp  on  Pease  Creek,  for  the 
purpose  of  having  a  basis  for  an  invasion  of  the  Big  Cypress 
Swamp  and  the  Everglades.  To  this  camp  Sole-Micco,  a 
friendly  Indian,  one  day  came  for  refuge.  Four  months  pre 
vious  he  had  gone  to  carry  a  friendly  talk  to  Hospetarke.  Just 
before  his  arrival  among  the  latter's  band,  a  council  had  been 
held  which  had  decreed  that  the  bearer  of  any  message  from 
the  whites  should  be  put  to  death. 

Sole-Micco  was  suspected,  but  swore  that  he  was  hunting 
for  his  mother,  who  was  believed  to  reside  somewhere  in  Big 
Swamp.  The  prophet  of  the  tribe  announced  that  he  would  find 
out  whether  the  story  was  true.  He  built  ten  fires  in  a  circle, 
divided  his  time  between  praying  and  dancing,  got  out  his  sup 
plies  of  roots,  snake  skins,  and  young  alligators,  examined  the 
palm  of  the  Indian,  and  at  last  announced  that  the  latter  had 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEM1NOLES.  719 

lied.  Had  not  Sole-Micco  had  some  relatives  in  the  band  who 
prepared  to  fight  in  his  behalf,  he  would  have  been  killed. 

When  Sole-Micco  reported  to  Coacoochee  the  hostility  of 
this  band  and  the  vicious  influence  of  the  prophet,  the  chief 
feared  lest  he  might  render  other  bands  unmanageable.  He 
at  once  sent  his  younger  brother  to  the  band  with  a  peace-talk. 
Hospetarke  agreed  to  come  into  the  camp  on  Pease  Creek  and 
hold  a  council.  For  a  week  the  old  rascal  kept  sending  word 
to  the  camp  each  day  that  he  was  coming,  but  was  very  old, 
very  sick,  and  very  tired,  and  required  whisky,  food,  and 
tobacco  to  give  him  strength  to  make  the  journey.  His  state 
ments  must  have  been  true,  as  he  could  only  travel  two  or 
three  miles  a  day  without  sending  in  for  more  supplies.  While 
he  was  advancing  at  a  snail's  pace,  Coacoochee  was  also  on  his 
way  to  Pease  Creek.  The  latter  arriving,  was  suffered  to  go 
alone  to  the  old  Indian's  camp  and  bring  him  in. 

It  was  evident  that  the  old  chief  was  simply  playing  a  game, 
and  that  he  must  be  met  with  a  counter-stratagem.  A  council 
was  appointed  to  be  held  in  the  cabin  of  the  vessel  which  had 
brought  Colonel  Worth  and  Coacoochee  down  the  coast.  The 
Indians  assembled  in  the  apartment  at  the  appointed  hour,  and 
were  secretly  surrounded  by  soldiers.  At  a  given  signal  the 
doors  were  closed  and  every  Indian  was  made  a  prisoner.  Wild 
and  fierce  was  the  storm  of  abuse  which  raged  when  the  Indians 
discovered  the  treachery.  At  this  moment  Coacoochee,  in  order 
that  he  might  not  be  believed  to  have  a  share  in  the  conspir 
acy,  came  into  the  cabin  with  a  whisky  bottle  in  his  hand,  pre 
tending  to  be  drunk.  He  railed  at  the  white  men  for  betraying 
his  friends,  while  he  was  enjoying  his  bottle,  and  succeeded  in 
diverting  all  suspicion  from  himself.  The  warriors  selected  a 
few  messengers  to  bring  in  their  women  and  children,  and  the 
whole  band  was  then  taken  to  Tampa  Bay  in  chains. 

The  assemblage  of  Indians  at  Tampa  Bay  became  restless. 
Coacoochee  had  exhausted  his  ingenuity  in  the  way  of  ball- 
plays,  dances  and  games,  to  content  the  Indians  and  occupy 


720  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

their  minds  while  the  plans  for  securing  the  submission  of  others 
were  being  executed.  The  assemblage  was  becoming  impatient 
and  explosive.  Numbers  of  troops  guarded  the  camp  at  every 
point.  At  night  a  space  of  two  miles'  square  was  lit  up  by 
lines  of  beacon  fires,  so  that  the  movements  of  every  person 
in  the  camp  were  distinctly  visible.  Coacoochee  was  anxious  to 
bring  the  long  delay  to  a  close.  The  eleventh  day  of  October 
was  set  as  the  day  for  sailing. 

As  soon  as  the  announcement  was  made,  the  camp  became 
the  scene  of  strange  activities.  Young  and  old,  little  and  big, 
set  to  work  pounding  corn  for  the  journey.  The  fabulous  stories 
which  had  so  long  been  current  were  revived.  A  dozen  times 
a  day  Coacoochee,  who  had  been  to  New  Orleans  and  back,  was 
called  upon  to  reassure  his  people  that  when  at  sea,  beyond  the 
sight  of  land,  they  were  not  to  be  cast  overboard. 

The  departure  from  their  native  land  into  exile  was  a  sor 
rowful  experience.  Yet  the  interests  and  feelings  of  the  multi 
tude,  packed  into  the  little  vessel,  were  widely  different.  First 
there  were  the  Seminoles,  of  whom  we  have  heard  much.  Then 
there  were  the  negroes.  These  latter  were  isolated  by  a  bar 
barism,  a  savagery  peculiar  to  themselves.  They  were  mostly 
runaways,  or  captives  taken  by  the  Indians  from  their  masters 
in  Georgia  and  Alabama.  They  had  their  own  sorrows,  which  it 
does  not  fall  within  the  scope  of  this  book  to  detail.  If  the 
records  of  the  time  are  to  be  believed,  they  were  far  more 
blood-thirsty,  more  fiercely  brutal,  more  utterly  inhuman,  than 
the  Indians  themselves.  They  gloried  in  the  war  because  peace 
meant  to  them  simply  slavery,  while  wrar  meant  wild  and  hid 
eous  license.  "Ten  resolute  negroes,"  it  is  said,  "with  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  country,  were  sufficient  to  desolate  the  frontier  from 
one  end  to  the  other." 

Besides  these  two  unhappy  peoples  there  were  also  a  small 
number  of  Mickasukie  Indians.  These  were  the  original  occu 
pants  of  Florida.  They  regarded  with  equal  bitterness  and 
hatred  the  negroes,  the  Seminoles,  and  the  whites.  To  them 


THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  SEMINOLES.  723 

they  were  all  alike,  invaders  and  enemies.  Halleck  Tustenug- 
gee  was  their  chief.  In  camp  they  had  obstinately  refused 
rations,  when  issued  with  those  of  the  Seminoles  or  negroes. 
Even  when  packed  on  board  the  filthy  vessel  they  refused  to 
share  the  society  of  the  unhappy  wretches  about  them,  but 
shut  themselves  off  in  one  corner  of  the  ship  in  the  solitude 
of  sorrow. 

Thus,  loaded  with  people  of  such  different  varieties  of 
wretchedness,  the  vessel  moved  slowly  down  the  bay.  In  the 
dense  throng  now  and  then  a  convulsive  sob  escaped  from  the 
negroes  or  the  squaws,  but  in  general  the  crowd  preserved  a 
profound  silence.  Hour  after  hour  they  watched  the  receding 
shores  with  fixed  and  melancholy  gaze  until  twilight  hid  them 
from  their  view.  In  the  morning  no  land  was  in  sight.  With 
the  departure  of  Coacoochee  the  most  dangerous  and  the  most 
noble  of  all  the  Indian  chiefs  was  removed  from  Florida. 

The  war  in  Florida  continued  to  rage  for  a  year  or  two 
longer.  Little  by  little  the  genius  of  Colonel  Worth  availed  to 
detach  separate  bands  of  Indians  from  the  rest,  obtain  their  sub 
mission,  and  transport  them  to  Arkansas.  The  American  troops 
who  had  become  rather  scouts  than  soldiers,  threaded  their  way 
to  the  darkest  and  most  inaccessible  spots  in  Florida,  hunted  the 
Indians  from  their  hiding  places,  captured  the  warriors,  and 
humiliated  their  chiefs.  Of  all  the  Indians  in  the  territory  at 
the  beginning  of  the  war  only  one  hundred  and  twenty,  capable 
of  bearing  arms,  remained  at  its  close.  The  policy  of  the  United 
States  in  this  war  has  always  been  regarded  as  a  blot  on  her 
fame.  Such  a  policy  has  never  been  pursued  toward  any  other 
tribe  of  Indians.  The  Sorrows  of  the  Seminoles  did  not  end 
with  their  exile  to  Arkansas.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  they  will 
not  do  so  until  the  last  unhappy  descendant  of  the  tribe  which 
produced  Osceola  and  Coacoochee  shall  have  passed  to  the  happy 
hunting  grounds. 


724 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

BLACK   HAWK'S  HUMILIATION. 


HE  Sac  Indians  have  a  curious  account  of  cre 
ation.  According  to  their  story,  the  gods  in 
the  beginning  created  the  earth  and  every  spe 
cies  of  bird,  beast,  and  fish.  They  next  cre 
ated  a  man.  But  this  creature,  as  may  easily 
be  believed,  was  shortly  discovered  to  be  both 
cruel  and  foolish.  To  improve  him  the  gods 
put  into  him  the  heart  of  the  best  beast  they 
had  created.  This,  however,  failed  to  improve  its  perverse 
owner.  So  the  Almighty  took  a  piece  of  himself,  of  which  he 
made  a  heart  for  the  man,  who  at  once  became  wise  and  gentle. 
The  earth,  meanwhile,  brought  forth  fruits  in  abundance.  Be 
sides  man  it  was  inhabited  by  innumerable  giants  and  gods. 
It  seems,  according  to  this  tale,  that  another  tribe  of  gods, 
who  had  their  home  under  the  seas,  had  a  fuss  with  the  gods 
of  the  earth.  The  former  pooled  their  issues  with  the  giants 
for  the  purpose  of  destroying  their  common  enemy.  A  council 
was  held,  at  which,  after  much  debate,  it  was  decided  that  the 
allies  were  still  too  weak  to  attack  Wesukkah,  the  chief  god  of 
the  earth.  So  they  conceived  a  stratagem.  A  great  feast  was 
to  be  prepared  on  the  earth,  to  which  Wesukkah  should  be 
invited.  At  an  opportune  moment  his  enemies  would  then  fall 
upon  him  and  put  him  to  death.  But  Wesukkah  was  wide 
awake.  No  sooner  had  the  council  decided  on  this  plan  than 
Wesukkah's  younger  brother  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the 
assembly.  He  was  at  once  inquired  of,  "Where  is  thy  brother 


BLACK  HA  WK'S  HUMILIA  TIVN.  725 

Wesukkah?"  to  which  he  replied,  "I  know  not;  am  I  my 
brother's  keeper?"  The  conspirators,  seeing  their  plan  was  dis 
covered,  instantly  slew  the  young  god. 

Wesukkah  was  deeply  grieved  at  the  fate  of  his  brother. 
The  gods  who  dwell  above  the  clouds,  hearing  his  noisy  lamenta 
tions,  came  down  and  offered  to  help  him  destroy  his  enemies. 
Frightened  at  their  danger,  the  gods  from  under  the  sea  had  run 
off,  leaving  their  friends,  the  giants,  alone  upon  earth.  The 
battle-field  between  Wesukkah  and  the  giants  was  a  flame  of 
fire.  The  giants  fought  bravely,  but  were  utterly  destroyed, 
not  one  of  their  number  being  left  alive. 

The  gods  under  the  sea,  frightened  at  the  fate  of  their  allies, 
instantly  besought  their  friends  for  help.  The  call  was  not  un 
heeded.  Through  the  influence  of  the  deities  of  the  thunder 
and  the  wind,  the  god  of  the  cold,  with  his  dreadful  armies  of 
frost,  snow,  hail  and  ice,  came  from  the  north,  and  smote  the 
whole  earth.  Every  river,  lake,  and  sea  was  converted  into  solid 
ice.  For  many  days  enormous  hailstones,  the  size  of  a  man's 
head,  smote  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth.  When  the  storm 
ceased,  all  of  them,  both  men,  beasts,  and  gods,  save  a  few 
choice  ones  of  each  kind,  which  Wesukkah  had  covered  with 
the  hollow  of  his  hand,  were  found  to  have  perished. 

In  the  process  of  time,  the  gods  of  the  sea  ventured  to  peep 
out  from  their  hiding-place,  and  seeing  Wesukkah  almost  entirely 
alone  upon  the  earth,  thought  that  now  their  enemy  might  indeed 
be  conquered.  Every  attempt  failed,  and  the  gods  of  the  sea, 
finding  themselves  unable  to  secure  the  earth  for  their  own 
habitation,  gnashed  their  teeth,  and  resolved  to  destroy  it  alto 
gether.  They  besought  the  god  of  thunder  for  aid,  and  he, 
calling  together  all  his  clouds,  commanded  them  to  pour  water 
upon  the  earth.  This  order  they  obeyed,  and  the  flood  contin 
ued  until  the  whole  surface  of  the  earth,  including  the  highest 
mountains,  was  covered  with  water. 

Wesukkah,  however,  saw  the  deluge  coming,  and  took  some 
air  to  make  himself  a  boat.  Into  this  he  went,  taking  with  him 


726  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  few  of  every  sort  of  living  creature,  including  man.  The  air 
boat  floated  safely  on  the  top  of  ihe  flood.  After  a  good  while, 
Wesukkah  commanded  a  fish  to  go  down  into  the  waters,  and 
bring  up  some  earth  from  the  bottom.  After  great  difficulty, 
the  fish  returned  with  a  mouthful  of  dirt,  out  of  which  Wesuk 
kah,  spreading  it  forth  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  formed  this 
earth.  Tired  with  their  long  confinement,  he  and  the  creatures 
that  were  with  him  in  his  air  boat  came  forth  and  inhabited  it. 

Though  the  Sacs  have  such  a  specific  account  of  creation, 
they  have  neglected  to  preserve  their  subsequent  history  with 
any  thing  like  detail.  All  we  know  is,  that  they  and  the  Foxes 
once  inhabited  the  shores  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Being  attacked 
by  the  Iroquois,  they  fled  to  the  western  shores  of  Lake  Michi 
gan,  and  thence  to  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi.  Elsewhere  we 
have  related  the  story  of  the  assassination  of  the  great  Pontiac 
in  an  Illinois  village.  This  murder  was  the  cause  of  one  of  the 
most  terrible  Indian  wars  known  to  history.  The  Sacs  and 
Foxes  from  the  north,  together  with  a  large  number  of  Pon- 
tiacean  tribes,- invaded  the  fertile  plains  of  the  Illinois,  overran 
the  country,  destroyed  the  villages,  and  almost  utterly  annihil 
ated  the  great  Illinois  confederacy,  of  which  the  Kaskaskias,  the 
Peorias,  the  Miamis,  and  the  Meas  were  but  individual  tribes. 

Having  subjugated  and  massacred  the  inhabitants  of  the  fair 
region  to  which  the  name  of  the  ruined  confederacy  is  still  given, 
the  Sacs  and  Foxes  determined  to  remain  in  the  delightful 
country.  Their  principal  village  was  constructed  on  the  east 
side  of  Rock  River,  near  its  junction  with  the  Mississippi.  Of 
this  region  a  traveler  said,  more  than  a  century  ago,  "  It  is 
healthy  and  amazingly  fruitful.  The  grape,  the  plum,  the  goose 
berry,  and  various  other  native  fruits  abound.  The  wild  honey 
suckle  gives  its  perfume  to  the  air,  and  a  thousand  indigenous 
flowers  mingle  their  diversified  hues  with  the  verdure  of  the  plain." 

As  usual,  the  difficulties  of  the  United  States  with  these 
tribes  grew  out  of  a  treaty.  It  was  made  in  1804,  and  in  it  it 
was  agreed  by  the  Indians  to  give  up  about  all  their  territory  east 


BLACK  HA  WK'S  HUMILIA  TION.  72  7 

of  the  Mississippi,  for  a  small  annuity.  The  origin  of  this  treaty 
was  claimed  by  the  Indians  to  be  as  follows  :  In  1804  some  of 
the  Sacs  went  down  to  St.  Louis  to  try  to  secure  the  release 
of  one  of  their  friends,  who  was  under  arrest  for  murder.  The 
party  was  absent  a  long  time.  When  they  returned  they  were 
dressed  in  fine  clothes,  and  each  man  possessed  a  silver  medal. 
They  related  to  their  tribe  that  after  having  requested  the 
Americans  to  release  their  friend,  the  governor  told  them  that 
he  wanted  some  land.  Papers  were  drawn  up  and  eagerly 
signed  by  the  Indians,  thinking  that  the  safety  of  their  friend 
was  secured.  They  were  supplied  with  a  great  deal  of  whisky, 
and  were  so  drunk  during  their  stay  that  they  could  only 
remember  that  their  friend,  instead  of  being  restored  to  them, 
was  called  out  before  them  and  shot  dead  by  a  file  of  soldiers. 
This  is  the  account  which  the  great  chieftain  of  the  Sacs  after 
ward  gave  of  the  treaty. 

When  the  war  of  1812  broke  out,  Black  Hawk,  a  rising 
young  warrior  of  the  tribe,  yielding  to  the  solicitations  of 
Tecumseh  and  the  omnipresent  Simon  Girty,  resolved  to  join 
the  British  army,  taking  with  him  five  hundred  braves.  Black 
Hawk  soon  wearied  of  the  war  and  returned  home.  On  his 
way  he  visited  an  old  man,  the  father  of  a  boy  which  Black 
Hawk  had  adopted.  The  old  Indian,  lying  at  the  point  of 
death,  feebly  related  the  following  story: 

After  Black  Hawk's  departure  to  the  war,  he,  with  a  few 
others,  repaired  to  a  white  settlement  on  Salt  River,  to  pass  the 
winter.  He  and  his  boy  had  pitched  their  wigwam  near  a  small 
fort,  of  which  the  occupants  seemed  friendly.  One  evening  the 
young  hunter  did  not  return  to  the  lodge.  In  the  morning  the 
old  man  and  his  squaw,  with  hearts  full  of  apprehension,  started 
on  a  search  for  the  wanderer.  They  followed  his  tracks  through 
the  snow  till  a  deer  trail  was  reached.  Pursuing  this  for  some 
distance,  they  found  a  dressed  deer  which  he  had  killed,  hang 
ing  to  a  tree.  At  this  point  also,  were  the  tracks  of  white  men. 
The  snow  was  greatly  disturbed,  as  if  the  spot  had  been  the 


728  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

scene  of  a  struggle.  In  one  place  they  discovered  a  stain  of 
blood  on  the  white  surface.  The  tracks  of  the  men  turned 
toward  the  fort.  Not  far  distant  the  boy  was  found  lying 
dead — shot,  stabbed,  and  scalped.  Black  Hawk  had  been  much 
attached  to  this  boy,  and  was  deeply  angered  at  the  outrage. 
Rejoining  his  warriors,  he  told  them  the  story,  and  the  whole 
body  resolved  to  return  to  the  war. 

When  Tecumseh  fell  dead  in  the  battle  of  the  Thames,  Black 
Hawk  was  fighting  by  his  side.  We  have  seen  how  Brant 
had  fought  under  the  great  Pontiac  years  before  he  himself 
came  into  fame.  It  is  not  extravagant  to  say  that  the  mind 
and  career  of  Brant  were  powerfully  influenced  by  the  char 
acter  and  fame  of  the  mighty  leader  whom  he  thus  supported. 
Tecumseh  himself,  though  born  after  Pontiac  had  been  buried 
in  his  forest  grave,  was,  even  more  than  Brant,  a  pupil  of  the 
great  conspirator.  The  far-reaching  influence  of  Pontiac,  which 
did  not  die  with  its  author,  may  therefore  be  traced  in  Black 
Hawk.  It  may  be  said  that  Black  Hawk  was  but  an  echo  of 
Tecumseh,  and  thus  indirectly  of  Pontiac  himself.  "The  evil 
that  men  do  lives  after  them." 

Few  incidents  are  related  of  Black  Hawk  from  the  time  of 
the  close  of  the  war  of  1812  to  the  year  1832,  when  he  became 
famous.  About  1820  a  young  Sac  killed  an  Indian  of  the  Iowa 
tribe.  In  imitation  of  the  whites,  these  tribes  had  arranged 
to  surrender  the  murderer,  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  friends  of 
the  murdered  man.  A  party  of  Sacs,  with  Black  Hawk  at  their 
head,  prepared  for  the  diplomatic  journey  to  the  lowas,  which 
the  occasion  demanded.  At  the  moment  of  departure  they  dis 
covered  that  the  young  man  who  had  committed  the  murder 
was  ill.  He  would  nevertheless  have  accompanied  them  had 
not  his  brother  interfered.  The  latter,  with  high  generosity, 
insisted  that  his  brother  was  too  sick  to  travel,  and  that  he 
would  go  and  die  in  his  place. 

After  a  journey  of  seven  days  the  party  arrived  within 
sight  of  the  Iowa  village.  The  young  brave  went  calmly  for- 


BLACK  HA  WK'8  HUMILIA TION.  729 

ward,  singing  his  death-song,  and  seated  himself  in  the  midst 
of  the  lodges.  A  deputation  of  chiefs  came  out  from  the  vil 
lage,  with  whom  Black  Hawk  held  a  short  talk,  explaining  that 
the  young  warrior,  who  had  surrendered  himself  to  them,  had, 
on  account  of  his  brother's  sickness,  taken  his  place,  and  had 
come  to  die  in  his  stead.  The  talk  ended.  The  lowas,  with 
impassive  countenances,  returned  to  the  village.  Black  Hawk 
and  his  companions  took  a  last  look  at  their  doomed  friend, 
about  whom  a  crowd,  armed  with  sticks  and  stones,  was  already 
gathering,  and  sadly  turned  their  faces  homeward. 

That  evening,  while  in  camp,  the  rapid  gallop  of  a  horse 
was  heard.  The  dusky  company  seized  their  arms,  with  every 
ear-attent  and  every  eye  strained  to  pierce  the  darkness.  The 
horse  came  nearer  and  nearer.  Suddenly  the  rider  reined  in 
and  leaped  from  his  saddle,  right  into  their  midst.  It  was  the 
young  brave  who  had  been  left  behind.  The  lowas  had  at  first 
threatened  him.  But  when  his  generosity  and  self-sacrifice 
became  known  there  was  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  among 
these  simple  children  of  the  forest.  Nature  taught  them  to 
instinctively  recognize  and  worship  the  hero.  It  is  civilization 
and  life  in  cities,  greed  and  selfishness,  which  blunt  this  fine 
instinct,  and  teach  men  to  ignore  and  sneer  at  heroism.  The 
lowas  had  not  only  released  their  prisoner,  but  sent  him  back 
to  his  people  with  a  present  of  two  fine  horses. 

A  year  or  two  after  this  touching  incident  Black  Hawk  and 
the  band  of  warriors,  who  with  admiring  devotion  followed  the 
footsteps  of  their  leader  everywhere,  were  encamped  on  the 
Two  Rivers  on  a  hunting  expedition.  One  day  some  white  set 
tlers  met  him  in  the  forest,  and  accused  him  of  having  killed 
some  of  their  hogs.  Black  Hawk  understood  their  language 
but  imperfectly.  At  last,  gathering  the  idea,  he  indignantly 
denied  the  charge.  The  white  ruffians  forthwith  jumped  on 
him,  snatched  away  his  gun  and  rendered  it  useless  by  firing  it 
in  the  air,  and  proceeded  to  beat  him  most  unmercifully  with 
sticks.  They  then  returned  the  gun,  kicked  him,  and  told  him 


730  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

to  leave  the  neighborhood.  From  this  outrage  Black  Hawk 
never  recovered.  The  humiliation  of  his  proud  spirit  was 
insufferable. 

In  the  summer  of  1823  the  United  States  urged  upon  the 
Sacs  and  Foxes  the  necessity  of  a  removal,  in  accordance  with 
the  treaty  of  1804,  of  which  we  have  spoken,  to  the  west  bank 
of  the  Mississippi.  This  caused  a  division  in  the  tribe.  Keo- 
kuk,  the  great  peace  chief  of  the  Sacs,  whose  ascendancy  and 
influence  was  rapidly  overshadowing  that  of  Black  Hawk, 
favored  the  removal,  and  with  a  majority  of  the  tribe  withdrew 
to  the  Iowa  River.  Black  Hawk,  of  course,  took  the  opposite 
side  to  that  of  his  rival,  in  which  position  he  found  not  a  few 
supporters. 

The  site  of  their  village  at  the  mouth  of  Rock  River  was, 
as  has  been  said,  one  of  the  most  delightful  spots  in  the  north- 
we'st.  Besides  its  natural  advantages  and  the  beauty  of  the 
scenery,  the  place  was  endeared  to  every  heart  by  associations. 
For  unnumbered  years  the  dead  of  every  family  had  been  buried 
under  the  shadow  of  the  stately  forest  trees.  Every  sorrow  of 
the  past  was  a  tie  which  bound  their  hearts  to  the  place.  Every 
joy  which  they  had  experienced  was  associated  in  memory  with 
this  home.  To  leave  the  one  seemed  to  be  giving  up  the  other. 
So  Black  Hawk  entered  a  violent  remonstrance  against  the  pro 
ceedings  of  the  whites,  and  refused  to  stir.  He  even  went  fur 
ther.  When  a  white  man  undertook  to  sell  whisky  to  his  peo 
ple  Black  Hawk,  with  two  or  three  companions,  went  to  the 
house  and  rolled  out  the  barrels.  He  then  broke  in  the  heads, 
and  spilled  the  liquor  on  the  ground. 

The  difficulties  increased  with  time.  Black  Hawk  and  .his 
people,  returning  from  their  winter  hunt,  found  their  lodges 
occupied  by  white  settlers,  who  claimed  to  have  bought  the 
land.  To  this  Black  Hawk  replied,  that  his  reason  taught  him 
that  land  could  not  be  sold.  In  this  remark  of  an  ignorant 
savage,  who  spoke  purely  from  instinct,  there  is  food  for  reflec 
tion.  If  we  open  the  works  of  the  English  philosopher,  Mill, 


BLACK  HA  IVK'8  HUMILIATION, 


31 


we  find  him,  after  an  elaborate  induction,  arriving  at  the  same 
conclusion.  The  theory  of  our  law  says  that  the  owner  of  land 
is  entitled  to  the  possession  of  it,  and  any  one  who  enters 
thereon  without  his  permission,  does  so  without  right,  and  is  a 
trespasser.  If  this  be 
true,  he  inquires,why 
then  might  not  a 
small  minority,  say  a 
million  men,  of  enor 
mous  wealth,  buy  up 
every  foot  of  land  on 
the  globe,  and  as  to 
them  every  other 
man,  woman,  and 
child  become  tres 
passers,  wrong-doers 
in  the  eye  of  the 
law,  legally  liable  to 
be  driven  off  the 
globe?  The  hand 
of  the  philosopher 
reaches  down  from 
the  heights  and  BLACK  HAWK. 

grasps  that  of  the  savage  extended  upward  from  the  depths. 
But  Black  Hawk  had  another  argument.  He  said  that  even 
if  his  land  could  be  sold,  it  never  had  been.  To  these  argu 
ments,  one  or  the  other  of  which  every  fair  man  will  say  was 
true,  the  United  States  had  but  a  single  reply.  That  reply 
consisted  of  one  word — "MOVE!"  The  squaws  had  planted  their 
corn,  and  it  was  beginning  to  grow.  The  white  men  deliber 
ately  plowed  it  up.  Black  Hawk  told  the  settlers  that  they 
must  get  off  of  his  land.  At  this  the  governor  of  Illinois  pro 
nounced  the  territory  to  be  in  a  state  of  "actual  invasion." 
Seven  hundred  troops  started  up  the  river  to  "remove  the 
Indians,  dead  or  alive,  to  the  west  side  of  the  Mississippi." 


732  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

A  council  was  held  at  Fort  Armstrong.  Black  Hawk  was 
present.  He  heard  the  demands  of  the  white  man.  After 
listening  patiently,  he  rose  and  made  the  usual  reply,  that  his 
lands  could  not  be  and  never  had  been  sold.  At-  the  close  of 
his  speech,  General  Gaines  inquired  "Who  is  Black  Hawk?  Is 
he  a  chief?  By  what  right  does  he  appear  in  council?"  To 
this  insult,  which  meant  that  the  United  States  refused  to  rec 
ognize  any  other  chief  among  the  Sacs  than  Keokuk,  who  was 
present  to  witness  the  humiliation  of  his  rival,  no  reply  was 
made.  With  quivering  features,  Black  Hawk  arose,  gathered 
his  blanket  around  him,  and  stalked  in  silence  from  the  coun 
cil-hall.  On  the  following  morning  he  was  again  in  his  seat. 
When  the  council  opened  he  arose,  and  with  biting  emphasis 
said :  "  My  father,  you  inquired  yesterday  '  Who  is  Black 
Hawk?  Why  does  he  sit  among  the  chiefs?'  I  will  tell  you 
who  I  am.  I  am  a  Sac.  My  father  was  a  Sac.  I  am  a  war 
rior.  So  was  my  father.  Ask  those  young  men  who  have  fol 
lowed  me  to  battle,  and  they  will  tell  you  who  Black  Hawk  is. 
Provoke  our  people  to  war,  and  you  will  learn  who  Black 
Hawk  is." 

Matters  were  at  a  dead  lock  concerning  the  removal  of  the 
Indians.  Seven  hundred  militia-men  were  on  the  ground.  On 
the  25th  of  June,  being  in  the  year  1831,  sixteen  hundred 
mounted  re-enforcements  arrived.  This  was  the  key  to  the  lock. 
That  night  Black  Hawk  and  his  braves,  with  their  women  and 
children,  fled  from  the  village  which  their  fathers  had  built, 
without  the  firing  of  a  gun.  In  the  morning  they  were  seen  on 
the  west  bank  of  the  Mississippi.  Above  them  floated  a  white 
flag.  This  occurrence  was  heralded  through  the. country  as  "a 
great  victory  over  General  Black  Hawk." 

New  troubles  awaited  the  exiles.  It  was  too  late  in  the 
season  for  them  to  plant  corn  and  beans  a  second  time.  This, 
however,  did  not  do  away  with  the  necessity  for  them.  One 
night  some  of  the  warriors,  heartsick  at  the  cries  of  the  women 
and  children  for  food,  crossed  the  river,  as  Black  Hawk  says, 


EL  A  CK  HA  WK'S  HUMILIA  TION.  733 

"  to  steal  roasting-ears  from  their  own  fields."  They  were  fired 
upon  by  the  whites,  and  foiled  in  their  efforts.  This  was  rub 
bing  salt  in  fresh  wounds. 

The  condition  of  the  Indians  was  miserable.  The  Winne 
bagoes,  occupying  what  is  now  the  state  of  Wisconsin,  seeing 
the  distresses  of  their  friends,  invited  Black  Hawk,  in  the  Spring 
of  1832,  to  bring  his  people  to  their  country,  and  raise  a  crop 
of  beans  and  corn.  The  old  chief,  overwhelmed  with  trouble, 
fearful  lest  his  followers  would  desert  to  Keokuk,  of  whose 
prosperity  and  fortune  he  was  intensely  jealous,  found  himself 
looked  to  by  his  people  to  extricate  them  from  their  troubles. 
He  had  never  been  a  man  of  great  resources,  and,  besides  this, 
was  now  overtaken  by  age  and  disappointment.  Not  knowing 
what  better  to  do,  he  accepted  the  invitation,  placed  his  women 
and  children  in  canoes,  and  with  his  warriors  armed  and  mounted, 
started  up  the  Mississippi. 

Having,  in  the  early  part  of  April,  reached  a  point  opposite 
their  old  home  at  the  mouth  of  Rock  River,  they,  perhaps 
rashly,  but  certainly  without  any  wicked  or  hostile  intent,  crossed 
to  the  east  side  of  the  Mississippi,  with  the  avowed  purpose  of 
ascending  Rock  River  to  the  villages  of  the  Winnebagoes.  They 
had  proceeded  up  Rock  River  but  a  short  distance  when  General 
Atkinson,  the  commandant  at  Fort  Armstrong,  sent  a  messenger 
after  Black  Hawk,  ordering  him  to  return.  The  old  chief  re 
fused  to  obey,  explaining  that  he  was  going  to  visit  the  Winne 
bagoes  on  their  invitation,  and  raise  a  crop  of  corn  with  them. 
A  second  messenger  brought  a  repetition  of  the  order,  with  a 
threat  that  unless  they  obeyed  peaceably  they  would  be  pursued 
and  forced  to  return.  At  this  point  Black  Hawk  also  found 
that  the  Winnebagoes  did  not  desire  his  presence  in  their  coun 
try  if  it  would  involve  them  in  hostilities  with  the  United  States. 
He  resolved,  therefore,  that  if  pursued  he  would  return  peace 
ably  to  the  western  side  of  the  Mississippi.  With  true  Indian 
dilatoriness,  he  stopped  to  compliment  some  visiting  chiefs  with 
a  dog  feast.  He  was  engaged  in  the  preparation  for  this,  when 


734  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

he  was  informed  that  a  large  army  had  approached  within  eight 
miles  of  his  camp. 

Three  young  Indians  were  at  once  sent  out  with  a  flag  of 
truce,  to  ask  for  a  council  and  arrange  for  a  peaceable  retreat. 
These  messengers  were  deliberately  taken  prisoners  by  the 
whites.  Finding  that  they  did  not  return,  Black  Hawk  sent 
out  five  others  to  learn  what  was  the  matter.  These  were  pur 
sued  by  twenty  horsemen,  and  two  of  them  killed.  At  the  time 
of  the  army's  approach,  Black  Hawk  had  with  him  only  forty 
warriors,  whom  he  concealed  in  ambush.  The  rest  were  ten 
miles  away.  When  the  troops  approached,  the  Indians  fired, 
and  the  soldiers  fled  in  a  panic.  In  the  reports  of  this  defeat, 
the  Indian  force  was  gravely  asserted  to  have  exceeded  fifteen 
hundred  men.  All  the  blankets,  provisions,  and  camp  equipage 
of  the  Americans  fell  into  Black  Hawk's  hands. 

The  old  chief,  elated  by  his  victory,  and  encouraged  by  re- 
enforcements,  as  well  as  enraged  at  the  murder  of  the  bearers  of 
his  flags  of  truce,  resolved  to  fight  rather  than  retreat  beyond 
the  Mississippi.  A  bloody  border  war  followed.  Farm  houses 
were  attacked,  horses  stolen,  and  settlers  murdered  as  usual. 
In  the  early  engagements  of  the  war,  the  Indians  had  the  ad 
vantage.  When  the  whole  force  of  the  American  army,  exceed 
ing  twenty-five  hundred  men,  became  available  for  the  conflict, 
the  tide  began  to  turn.  Black  Hawk  and  his  people  commenced 
a  retreat  toward  the  Wisconsin  River.  The  army  was  in  full  pur 
suit.  The  members  of  Black  Hawk's  band  were  reduced  to  a  diet 
of  roots  and  horseflesh.  Many  of  them  died  of  actual  starvation, 
and  their  corpses  were  found  by  their  pursuers  strewn  along 
the  pathway  of  their  flight.  Reaching  the  Wisconsin  River, 
the  women  and  children  were  embarked  upon  hastily  constructed 
rafts,  for  a  descent  toward  the  Mississippi.  On  the  voyage 
these  helpless  people  were  attacked  by  troops  stationed  on  shore, 
some  killed,  some  drowned,  and  some  captured.  Of  those  who 
escaped  to  the  woods,  the  majority  perished  from  starvation. 

Meanwhile  Black  Hawk  arid  the  rest  of  his  band  struck  out 


BLACK  HA  WK'S  HUMILIA TION.  735 

directly  across  the  country  toward  the  Mississippi.  Many, 
weakened  by  hunger,  succumbed  to  the  hardships  of  the  way. 
A  part  of  the  women  and  children  were  embarked  in  canoes  as 
soon  as  the  river  was  reached.  Some  of  these  vessels  upset  in 
the  river,  and  their  occupants  sank  beneath  the  waves.  On  the 
1st  of  August,  while  the  remainder  of  the  Indians  were  waiting 
for  transportation,  they  were  overtaken  and  attacked  by  the 
troops.  Black  Hawk  again  sent  forward  a  messenger  with  a 
flag  of  truce,  who  was  fired  upon  and  killed.  Not  less  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  Indians,  nearly  half  the  entire  force,  were 
killed  in  the.  action.  Black  Hawk,  with  the  remainder,  jumped 
into  the  river,  attempting  to  swim  to  the  opposite  shore. 

During  the  battle  a  young  squaw  with  a  child  in  her  arms 
was  shot  in  the  breast,  and  fell  covering  the  child  with  her  body. 
When  the  soldiers  came  up,  they  heard  the  cries  of  the  child, 
and,  running  to  the  spot,  removed  it  from  beneath  the  corpse 
of  its  mother.  One  arm  of  the  infant  was  amputated,  and  the 
child  afterwards  recovered.  Among  the  women  who  sprang  into 
the  river  was  a  squaw  with  an  infant  wrapped  in  a  blanket, 
which  she  carried  in  her  teeth.  The  mother  seized  the  tail  of 
a  horse  which  was  swimming  across,  and  in  this  way  reached 
the  opposite  shore  in  safety. 

Though  Black  Hawk  escaped  alive  from  this  battle,  he  did 
not  long  avoid  the  toils  of  his  enemies..  His  followers  deserted 
him  one  by  one,  and  he  was  at  last  betrayed  and  captured, 
through  the  treachery  of  two  Winnebagoes.  He  was  at  once 
removed  to  Jefferson  Barracks,  below  St.  Louis,  and  there  con 
fined  and  forced  to  wear  a  ball  and  chain.  The  winter  was 
gloomy  enough  to  the  old  chief. 

Among  those  who  had  been  captured  with  him  was  a  young 
warrior  or  chief  named  Naopope.  An  artist  visited  the  Indians 
in  prison,  and  sought  to  paint  the  likeness  of  Naopope.  '  "Paint 
me  as  I  am,"  thundered  Cromwell,  when  an  artist  sought  to  hide 
the  hideous  warts  and  blemishes,  which  disfigured  the  counte 
nance  of  the  Protector  of  England.  "Make  me  so,  and  show 

41 


736  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

me  as  I  am  to  the  great  father,"  cried  Naopope  to  his  portrait 
painter,  seizing  the  ball  and  chain  that  were  fastened  to  his 
leg,  and  raising  them  on  high.  When  the  artist  refused  to  do 
this  the  Indian  distorted  his  face  with  incessant  grimaces,  and 
prevented  his  picture  from  being  taken.  Such  was  the  uncon 
querable  spirit  of  this  poor  manacled  captive  in  the  dungeon  of 
Jefferson  Barracks. 

In  the  following  spring  Black  Hawk  was  taken  to  Washing 
ton  City.  When  confronted  by  President  Jackson,  the  old 
Indian  bluntly  remarked,  "I  am  a  man  and  you  are  only 
another."  God  and  the  savage  are  no  respecters  of  persons. 
When  told  that  he  would  be  liberated,  Black  Hawk  said: 
"Brother,  I  have  come  on  my  own  part  and  in  behalf  of  my 
companions  to  bid  you  farewell.  Our  great  father  has  at  length 
been  pleased  to  permit  us  to  return  to  our  hunting  grounds. 
We  have  buried  the  tomahawk,  and  the  sound  of  the  rifle  will 
hereafter  only  bring  death  to  the  deer  and  the  buffalo.  Brother, 
you  have  treated  the  red  men  very  kindly.  Your  squaws  have 
made  them  presents,  and  you  have  given  them  plenty  to  eat 
and  drink.  The  memory  of  your  friendship  will  remain  till  the 
Great  Spirit  says  it  is  time  for  Black  Hawk  to  sing  his  death- 
song.  Brother,  your  houses  are  as  numerous  as  the  leaves  upon 
the  trees,  and  your  young  warriors  like  the  sands  upon  the  shore 
of  the  big  lake  that  rolls  before  us.  The  red  man  has  but  few 
houses  and  few  warriors,  but  the  red  man  has  a  heart  that  throbs 
as  warmly  as  the  heart  of  his  white  brother.  The  Great  Spirit 
has  given  us  our  hunting  grounds,  and  the  skin  of  the  deer  which 
we  kill  there  is  his  favorite,  for  its  color  is  white,  and  this  is 
the  emblem  of  peace.  This  hunting-dress  and  these  feathers  of 
the  eagle  are  white.  Accept  them,  my  brother;  I  have  given 
one  like  this  to  the  White  Otter.  Accept  of  it  as  a  memorial  of 
Black  Hawk.  When  he  is  far  away  this  will  serve  to  remind 
you  of  him.  May  the  Great  Spirit  bless  you  and  your  chil 
dren.  Farewell." 

Black  Hawk  and  his  companions  were  taken  to  Baltimore, 


BLACK  HA  WK'S  HUMILIA TION.  737 

Philadelphia,  New  York,  and  all  the  eastern  cities  before  their 
return.  Everywhere  great  multitudes  thronged  to  see  the  great 
"General  Black  Hawk."  Extensive  military  displays  were  made 
to  impress  the  savages  with  the  power  of  the  United  States. 
The  crowning  feature  of  Black  Hawk's  humiliation  was,  how 
ever,  yet  to  come.  He  was  to  be  formally  liberated,  but  was 
also  to  be  degraded  and  removed  from  his  office  of  chief  of  the 
Sacs,  among  whom  henceforth  his  life-long  enemy  and  rival, 
Keokuk,  was  to  be  alone  acknowledged  as  chief.  The  spot 
where  the  ceremony  was  to  be  performed  was  Fort  Armstrong, 
on  the  site  of  the  old  Sac  village.  "This  was  the  favorite 
island  of  the  Indians — in  former  years  abundant  in  fruits  and 
flowers,  and  from  time  immemorial  the  fancied  abode  of  a  good 
spirit,  who  watched  over  their  village  and  protected  their  hunt 
ing  grounds.  No  spot  could  have  been  selected  calculated  to 
awaken  so  many  painful  associations  in  the  mind  of  Black  Hawk 
as  Rock  Island.  For  half  a  century  it  had  been  the  witness  of 
his  power  and  influence ;  it  was  now  to  become  the  scene  of  his 
disgrace  and  reluctant  submission  to  a  rival." 

On  arriving  at  Fort  Armstrong,  runners  were  sent  out  sum 
moning  the  Indians  from  far  and  wide  to  attend  the  strange 
ceremony.  They  came  by  scores  and  hundreds,  both  from  the 
Sacs  and  all  the  neighboring  tribes,  who  remembered  the  fame 
of  Black  Hawk,  and  were  now  curious  to  witness  his  infamy. 
Chief  of  all  the  arrivals  was  that  of  the  princely  Keokuk.  He 
ascended  the  Mississippi  reclining  in  two  canoes,  lashed  side  by 
side,  and  covered  with  a  canopy.  Handsome  decorations  cov 
ered  the  vessels.  Near  the  chief  sat  his  three  wives.  Follow 
ing  him  came  a  long  line  of  canoes,  filled  with  his  people.  Each 
brave  was  painted  in  the  most  elaborate  style,  and  equipped 
with  all  the  panoply  of  war.  At  high  noon  the  great  Keokuk, 
with  stately  step  and  lofty  bearing,  disembarked  amid  the  rattle 
of  scores  of  Indian  drums,  and  the  shouts  and  songs  of  his  peo 
ple.  It  was  indeed  a  triumph. 

The    afternoon    and    evening    were    devoted    to    games    and 


738 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


dances.  From  all  the  gay  assembly  Black  Hawk  alone  remained 
apart  in  solitude.  He  might  have  been  seen,  crouched  in  the 
corner  of  his  room  in  the  fort,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands, 
and  his  soul  given  over  to  grief  and  gloom. 

On   the   following   day  the    grand    council   was    assembled. 
Keokuk  and  a  hundred  gaudily  attired  warriors  were  given  the 

posts  of  honor. 
Presently  Black 
Hawk  and  his 
son,  unattended, 
entered'  the  room 
with  an  air  of 
profound  dejec 
tion,  and  timidly 
took  an  obscure 
seat.  They  had 
protested  strong 
ly  against  this 
unnecessary  cere 
mony  of  disgrace, 
and  came  filled 
with  the  deepest 
mortification. 
For  a  time  pro 
found  silence 
reigned.  Then 
Major  Garland 
arose  and  made 
a  lengthy  speech.  He  concluded  by  saying,  that  he  wished  it 
distinctly  understood  by  all  persons,  that  hereafter  their  great 
father,  the  President,  would  receive  and  acknowledge  Keokuk 
alone  as  the  chief  of  the  Sac  and  Fox  nation ;  that  Black  Hawk 
must  listen  and  conform  to  his  counsels,  and  that  the  band  of 
Black  Hawk  must  be  henceforth  merged  in  that  of  Keokuk. 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  in  which  the  features  of  the 


BLACK  HA  WK'8  HUMILIA  TION.  739 

old  chief  were  seen  to  twitch  with  uncontrollable  emotion. 
Then,  springing  to  his  feet,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  trembling 
with  futile  rage  :  "  I  am  a  man — an  old  man.  I  will  not  conform 
to  the  counsels  of  any  one.  I  will  act  for  myself — no  one  shall 
govern  me.  I  am  old — my  hair  is  gray — I  once  gave  counsels 
to  my  young  men.  Am  I  now  to  conform  to  others  ?  I  shall 
soon  go  to  the  Great  Spirit,  when  I  shall  be  at  rest.  What  I 
said  to  our  great  father  at  Washington,  I  say  again — I  will  al 
ways  listen  to  him.  I  am  done."  This  speech  was  the  cry  of 
defeat,  the  lament  of  the  fallen  chieftain. 

Major  Garland  attempted  to  make  explanations,  to  the  effect 
that  he  had  only  requested  him  to  listen  to  the  counsels  of 
Keokuk.  To  this  he  made  no  reply,  but,  drawing  his  blanket 
around  him,  sat  in  moody  silence.  At  last  Keokuk  rose,  came 
to  him,  and  talked  for  awhile  in  a  low  tone.  The  words  of  the 
wily  Keokuk  were  not  without  their  effect.  Before  the  council 
ended  Black  Hawk  rose  and  said  that  it  was  his  wish,  if  his 
speech  had  been  put  upon  paper,  that  a  line  might  be  drawn 
through  it.  He  did  not  mean  what  he  said.  This  was  the 
last  drop  of  gall  in  the  cup  of  bitterness. 

During  the  remainder  of  his  life  Black  Hawk,  with  a  few 
old  braves,  who,  having  followed  him  in  prosperity,  did  not  de 
sert  him  in  adversity,  lived  at  a  point  on  a  small  stream  called 
Devil  Creek,  isolated  from  his  tribe.  It  was  the  attempt  of  the 
fallen  chief  to  hide  his  disgrace.  He  never  ceased  to  recall  his 
happy  life  on  Rock  River.  "I  liked  my  towns,  my  cornfields, 
and  the  home  of  my  people,"  he  would  say  to  the  white  men 
who  visited  him.  "  I  fought  for  it.  I  did  wrong,  perhaps ;  but 
that  is  past — let  it  be  forgotten.  The  country  which  was  mine 
is  now  yours.  Keep  it  as  we  did — it  will  produce  you  good 
crops."  He  attributed  all  his  misfortunes  to  Keokuk,  and  never 
<ceased  to  regret  that  he  had  been  led  into  armed  resistance  to 
the  United  States.  He  died  in  1838,  being  about  seventy-two 
years  old.  His  old  age  was  given  over  to  sorrowful  melancholy. 
Death  was  indeed  to  him  a  welcome  guest. 


740  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    HISTORY  OF    KIT   CARSON. 

HE  genius  for  pioneering  is  born  in  a  man,  just 
as  the  genius  for  debate  or  for  war.  It  runs  in 
families,  and  is  handed  down  from  father  to  son. 
It  is  that  strange  spirit  of  unrest  which  dissatis 
fies  some  men  with  their  civilized  surroundings, 
and  impels  them  toward  the  wilderness.  There 
they  are  happy,  fighting  the  savage,  shooting 
the  buffalo,  and  struggling  with  nature  in  her 
fiercest  aspect.  When  the  tide  of  emigration  sets  in  their  direc 
tion,  and  society  assumes  a  somewhat  settled  state,  these  bold 
men  give  a  pull  at  their  throat  bands  as  if  suffocated,  and  reso 
lutely  set  their  faces  toward  the  west,  to  seek  out  a  location 
where  the  spice  of  adventure  and  danger  gives  a  wild  variety 
to  life. 

Such  was  the  Carson  family,  of  Kentucky,  to  whom  was 
born,  on  December  24,  1809,  their  son  Christopher,  or,  as  he  is 
widely  known,  "  Kit."  At  this  time  Kentucky  society  began  to 
assume  a  state,  wild  and  rough,  we  would  think,  but  to  the  Car- 
sons  dull  and  monotonous.  Affrays  with  Indians  happened  only 
once  in  a  year  or  two.  In  1810,  none  of  Mr.  Carson's  neigh 
bors  had  been  scalped  since  Kit  was  born.  When  he  went  out 
for  a  hunt,  he  could  no  longer  hope  to  be  treed  all  night  by  a 
bear.  All  this  was  a  bore ;  and  it  bore  on  his  mind  so  that, 
when  Kit  was  a  year  old,  the  family  sold  out  their  scraggy  farm, 
said  good-bye  to  their  nearest  neighbors,  five  miles  off,  and  with 
hearts  lighter  than  for  several  years,  set  out  for  what  is  now 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  741 

central  Missouri.  Here  they  found  no  end  of  exciting  adven 
ture.  They  and  a  few  neighbors  lived  together  in  a  rough  log 
fort,  in  order  to  be  safe  from  the  Indians.  In  laying  out  and 
working  their  farms  outside  the  log  inclosure,  it  was  necessary 
for  a  part  of  them  to  act  as  guards,  posted  at  the  extremities  of 
the  fields,  to  give  instant  warning  of  the  approach  of  redskins, 
and  signal  a  retreat  to  the  fort. 

Amid  such  scenes  were  passed  the  boyhood  days  of  Kit 
Carson.  When  he  reached  the  age  of  sixteen,  his  father,  good 
man,  being  determined  that  his  son  Kit  should  not  lead  such  a 
roving  life  as  he  himself  had  led,  apprenticed  Christopher  to  a 
harness-maker.  But  the  master  could  make  no  harness  strong 
enough  to  hitch  the  soaring  spirit  of  Kit  Carson  to  a  trade. 
The  restless  love  of  freedom  and  appetite  for  adventure  which 
belonged  to  the  father,  were  intensified  in  the  son,  and  in  1826 
he  broke  away  from  the  restraint,  by  joining  a  party  whose 
journey  took  them  eight  hundred  miles  across  the  plains,  to 
Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico. 

Though  young,  and  destitute  of  the  necessary  equipment, 
not  even  owning  a  gun,  nor  being  able,  by  the  utmost  exertions 
as  teamster  and  guide,  to  do  more  than  earn  the  food  he  ate, 
his  purpose  was  made  up  to  be  a  hunter  and  trapper.  In  April, 
1829,  he  was  selected  as  a  member  of  a  party  of  forty  men, 
under  the  leadership  of  Ewing  Young,  organized  at  Taos,  New 
Mexico,  for  the  double  purpose  of  chastising  a  tribe  of  Indians, 
who  had  been  on  the  war-path  and  driven  a  party  of  Young's 
trappers  out  of  the  country,  and  also  for  pursuing  the  lucrative 
occupation  of  trapping  beaver.  The  real  purpose  of  the  expe 
dition  was  carefully  concealed  from  the  Mexican  authorities,  and 
after  a  brisk  and  secret  advance,  they  came  suddenly  upon  the 
band  of  Navajoe  braves,  which  had  massacred  their  friends. 
Preparations  for  the  fight  were  quickly  made  on  both  sides. 
Part  of  the  whites  advanced  stealthily,  to  lie  in  ambush  behind 
some  rock  which  lay  a  little  to  the  side  and  nearly  midway 
between  the  main  combatants.  Not  seeing  this  movement,  the 


742  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Indians  charged  on  the  remainder  of  the  party,  and,  as  they 
came  in  front  of  the  ambush,  were  suddenly  assailed  by  a  mur 
derous  cross-fire.  Fifteen  braves  fell  heavily  from  their  horses, 
killed  by  the  first  fire ;  the  remainder,  pursued  by  the  trappers, 
fled  in  all  directions. 

After  this  fight  it  was  decided  that  the  party  should  divide, 
only  eighteen  of  them  continuing  to  the  valley  of  the  Sacra 
mento  in  California.  Of  this  detachment  Carson  was  a  member. 
Learning  from  some  friendly  Indians  that  the  country  through 
which  their  path  lay,  and  which  had  never  before  been  explored 
by  white  men,  was  destitute,  alike,  of  game  and  water,  the  meat 
of  three  deer  was  prepared  to  take  with  them,  and  the  skins 
of  the  animals  were  converted  into  water  tanks.  A  week  was 
passed  with  this  meager  supply  of  water  for  eighteen  men  and 
a  large  number  of  horses.  For  food  an  old  mare  was  killed  on 
the  fifth  day  and  devoured  with  great  gusto.  About  the  sev 
enth  day  they  reached  the  dry  bed  of  one  of  those  singular 
rivers,  which  suddenly  sink  out  of  sight  and  reappear  at  the 
distance  of  hundreds  of  miles  after  an  underground  course, 
probably,  through  quicksand.  The  channel  is  usually  defined 
on  the  surface,  and,  though  dry,  delicious  water  is  easily  had 
by  scooping  a  hole  of  a  few  feet  in  the  sand.  After  this  their 
path  lay  through  a  beautiful  country,  abounding  in  water  and 
forage,  elk,  deer,  and  antelope  of  the  finest  varieties.  The  men 
were  elated  with  what  seemed  a  good  omen  of  the  success  which 
awaited  them  in  their  trapping. 

When  at  last  the  Sacramento  River  was  reached  the  men 
began  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  "  signs "  of  beaver.  The 
presence  of  them  in  great  abundance  caused  a  thrill  of  joy  to 
the  trappers.  The  significance  of  this  word  "  signs "  is  very 
great  as  the  trappers  use  it.  The  cunning  beaver  can  seldom 
be  seen  on  the  bank  or  in  the  river,  for  he  has  no  great  means 
of  defense  when  attacked,  and  relies  on  his  exquisite  sight  and 
hearing  to  warn  him  of  danger  in  time  for  retreat.  The  marks 
he  leaves  behind  him,  however,  are  to  the  expert  eye  as  legible 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  743 

as  the  words  on  this  page.  The  beaver's  unequaled  industry  in 
felling  large  trees,  cutting  twigs,  peeling  off  the  tender  cuticle 
of  the  willow  bushes,  digging  away  the  banks,  and  carrying  the 
earth  on  his  shovel-shaped  tail  to  his  dam,  and  the  innumerable 
footprints  which  he  leaves,  are  a  part  of  these  "  signs."  The 
little  twig,  half  denuded  of  its  bark,  floating  down  stream, 
unnoticed  by  any  but  the  keen-eyed  trapper,  reveals  to  him  by 
its  freshness  the  proximity  of  the  prize  more  than  the  great 
dam,  which  to  a  greenhorn  would  seem  a  splendid  indication  of 
its  builder's  presence,  because  the  dam  is  probably  an  old  and 
abandoned  one. 

The  beaver's  dam,  a  wonderful  structure,  is  built  by  him  to 
provide  him  with  food  in  the  winter  when  every  thing  above 
the  water  is  dry  and  sapless.  "  He  chooses  a  place  favorable 
for  obtaining  food,  and  also  where  his  labors  will  be  assisted  by 
natural  formations  or  accidents  in  the  river's  course.  Having 
carefully  selected  his  location,  he  and  his  fellows  set  to  work  to 
fell  giant  trees.  While  one  party  is  cutting  the  hard  wood  on 
one  side  of  the  tree  with  their  sharp  teeth,  another  works  on 
the  opposite  side,  the  incision  on  the  side  on  which  they  want 
the  tree  to  fall  being  made,  with  the  skill  of  the  true  forester, 
much  lower  than  the  other,  which  is  made  to  slant  downward 
to  the  first.  By  this  sort  of  craft  the  largest  trees  are  made 
to  fall  into  and  across  the  stream.  When  it  has  fallen  the 
leaves  and  small  branches  are  at  once  woven  into  a  close  net 
work,  adapted  to  catching  floating  debris,  and  to  receiving  the 
earth  which  they  throw  on  by  the  tail  load.  Several  trees  are 
felled  in  this  way,  till  as  many  are  down  as  is  desired.  Then 
comes  the  mud- work,  in  which  Mr.  Beaver  is  an  artist.  A  large 
gang  march  to  the  bank,  load  each  others'  tails,  and  swim,  with 
their  cargoes  elevated  above  the  water,  to  the  dumping-spot, 
where  they  at  once  mould  it  to  its  place." 

Their  houses  they  have  previously  built  on  the  banks.  They 
consist  of  large  and  airy  subterranean  rooms,  above  the  water 
mark.  In  these  houses,  trappers  say,  they  live  in  pairs,  and 


744  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

much  resemble  human  beings  in  the  arrangement  and  manage 
ment  of  their  household  affairs,  Madame  Beaver  having  the 
ruling  voice  in  domestic  and  internal  arrangements,  while  the 
outside  work  of  building  dams  and  providing  food  is  the  more 
especial  business  of  Monsieur.  To  this  end  he  builds  his 
dam,  the  deep  water  preserving  fresh  and  tender  the  leaves 
and  shrubs  on  which  his  family  must  subsist  during  the  winter. 
Some  say  he  goes  so  far  as  to  bundle  up  small  branches  of  trees 
and  willows,  which  he  stows  away  in  the  muddy  bottom  of  the 
river.  Trapper  yarns  have  it  that  beaver  society  is  regularly 
organized,  there  being  chiefs,  some  of  whom  roll  in  wealth  and 
have  troops  of  slaves  ready  to  do  instant  service,  such  as  bring 
a  fresh  bundle  of  green  twigs  for  dinner  from  the  river  bottom. 

The  signs  having  been  discovered,  the  trappers  selected  a 
comfortable  location  for  their  camp,  and  part  of  them  started 
out  to  set  traps,  while  the  remainder  kept  guard  and  did  the 
cooking.  The  trap  is  much  like  the  ordinary  steel  trap  used  for 
catching  foxes  or  wolves,  only  somewhat  smaller.  It  is  baited 
with  a  peculiar  animal  substance  of  strong  scent,  which  draws 
the  beaver  from  his  hiding-place,  and  so  excites  his  appetite  as 
to  induce  him  before  long  to  reach  in  his  paw,  when  in  an 
instant  he  is  a  prisoner.  The  traps,  when  visited,  are  emptied 
and  reset.  The  game  is  killed  and  skinned,  the  pelts  dried 
and  cured  in  camp,  and  packed  in  bales  for  loading  on  the 
mules.  The  Sacramento  region  proved  to  be  a  splendid  field 
for  operations,  and  great  was  the  success. 

While  in  camp  here  the  party  were  applied  to  by  the  priest 
of  the  mission  of  San  Rafael  for  help  in  capturing  some  Indians 
belonging  to  his  mission,  who  had  stolen  some  of  his  property 
and  deserted  to  a  hostile  Indian  village,  which  refused  to  give 
them  up.  Carson  and  a  dozen  companions,  ready  for  any  fun, 
offered  their  services,  and  attacked  the  Indian  village,  killing 
one-third  of  its  population,  capturing  the  deserters,  and  with 
them  the  stolen  property.  For  this  they  refused  all  compensa 
tion,  but  the  priest  secured  them  a  good  purchaser  for  their  furs. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  745 

One  night,  when  unsuspicious  of  danger,  the  camp  lost  sixty 
of  their  horses,  which  were  driven  off  by  a  party  of  redskins. 
Carson  was  ordered  to  pick  a  dozen  companions,  and  with  the 
remaining  thirteen  horses  give  chase.  After  a  break-neck  ride 
of  a  hundred  miles  toward  the  mountains,  they  suddenly  came 
upon  the  savages,  who  were  sitting  around  their  camp-fires 
feasting  on  six  of  the  horses,  which  they  had  killed  for  that 
purpose.  Enraged  beyond  measure  at  the  sight,  the  trappers 
charged  the  camp  with  a  yell,  killing  eight  savages  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  while  the  rest  escaped.  When  Carson 
returned  with  all  the  horses  except  the  six  which  had  been 
killed,  he  was  voted  a  hero.  Yet  he  was  only  twenty  years 
old,  and  this  was  his  first  expedition.  Here  it  was,  too,  that 
he  laid  the  foundation  of  his  fame  as  a  hunter,  in  which  regard 
he  afterward  acquired  a  reputation  unequaled  by  any  man  in 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  His  companions  say  he  was  exceedingly 
modest,  and  of  a  refined  and  gentle  nature,  which  contrasted 
strangely  with  his  wild  profession.  He  was  only  five  feet  and 
a  half  high,  agile  but  rather  slight  in  build,  possessing  a  gray 
eye  and  light  brown  hair.  He  talked  little,  and  was  remarkably 
cautious  in  exposing  himself,  always  sleeping  where  the  glare 
of  the  camp-fire  did  not  fall  on  him,  and  carefully  loading  gun 
and  pistols  before  retiring. 

In  September  the  party,  well  laden  with  valuable  furs,  turned 
their  faces  homeward.  On  their  way,  passing  through  a  Mexi 
can  town,  the  men,  in  true  trapper  style,  feeling  the  object  of 
the  trip  largely  accomplished,  succumbed  to  the  seductive  influ 
ences  of  the  whisky  on  sale  there,  as  well  as  to  the  winsome 
familiarities  of  the  Mexican  maiden.  Carson,  however,  carefully 
avoided  such  indulgences,  and  exerted  himself  to  get  the  party 
out  of  town. 

On  the  day  after  leaving  the  place,  while  the  trappers'  heads 
were  still  heavy  and  aching  from  the  debauch,  Carson  discov 
ered  a  band  of  five  hundred  Indians  approaching.  The  men  were 
at  the  moment  in  camp.  The  Indians  halted,  made  friendly 


746  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

signs,  and  in  a  few  moments  two  of  their  number  came  into  the 
trappers'  camp,  eying  things  with  great  curiosity.  Shortly  a 
few  more  braves  sauntered  in,  and  then  still  more,  until  enough 
were  present  to  overwhelm  the  little  band  of  whites  if  a  struggle 
ensued.  At  this  moment  Mr.  Young  discovered  that  the  Indians, 
instead  of  being  unarmed,  had  their  weapons  concealed  in  their 
garments.  It  was  evidently  their  intention  to  massacre  the 
entire  party,  and  make  off  with  the  booty.  Young  whispered 
his  discovery  with  blanched  lips  to  Carson. 

The  moment  was  critical.  But  in  these  trying  moments  Car 
son's  genius  never  failed  to  equal  the  emergency.  Quickly  call 
ing  his  men  to  his  side,  he  ordered  each  man  to  cover  a  savage 
with  his  gun.  Taken  completely  by  surprise,  the  intruders 
began  to  retreat  from  the  row  of  deadly  rifles.  "  Leave  the 
camp!"  said  Carson,  in  a  clear-cut  tone.  "If  you  refuse,  each 
one  of  us  will  kill  our  man,  even  if  we  at  last  are  killed  our 
selves."  The  effect  was  electric.  Death,  with  blood-shot  eye 
balls,  stared  them  out  of  countenance,  and  with  a  bound  the 
red  murderers  cleared  the  camp. 

A  week  or  two  after  this,  the  trappers  ran  across  a  band  of 
Indians  which  had  annoyed  them  on  their  outbound  trip.  The 
"  lex  talionis "  of  Moses  and  the  Israelites  is  the  only  possible 
law  for  the  wanderers  in  any  wilderness.  Stealing  quickly  upon 
the  group  of  huts,  the  whites  were  upon  their  foes  almost  as 
soon  as  discovered.  A  noble  warrior  sank  to  rise  no  more  at 
each  crack  of  the  trappers'  rifles,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  rout 
became  complete.  A  very  nice  herd  of  horses  and  mules,  the 
only  thing  of  value  in  the  village,  was  captured  by  this  stroke. 

That  night  the  trappers  settled  down  around  their  camp-fire 
for  a  comfortable  sleep,  after  the  day's  exertion.  Some  men 
tion  was  made  about  the  probability  of  a  return  of  the  redskins, 
and  two  of  the  most  vigilant  were  appointed  to  keep  watch, 
one  before  midnight,  the  other  after.  Shortly  after  the  change 
of  sentry  at  midnight,  the  man  on  watch  became  aware  of  a 
dark  body  moving  in  the  darkness  over  the  prairie  in  the  direc- 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  749 

tion  of  the  camp.  It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  arouse 
the  men,  who,  with  rifles  grasped  and  pistols  cocked,  were  in- 
stantly  on  the  alert.  Carson  slipped  out  to  reconnoitre,  and 
returning  reported  a  large  herd  of  horses  driven  by  a  few  Indians,, 
who  had  probably  stolen  them.  Without  any  over-nice  honesty, 
a  volley  of  rifle-balls  was  directed  toward  the  astonished  Indians, 
who  fled  in  great  precipitation,  leaving  their  property,  the  second 
capture  of  the  day,  to  the  trappers.  On  the  following  morning 
the  best  of  the  herd  were  selected  for  use;  two  of  the  fattest 
animals  were  killed  for  food,  and  the  remainder  turned  loose  on 
the  prairie,  to  rejoice  once  more  in  the  wild  liberty  of  their  sires. 

In  April,  1830,  just  a  year  after  its  departure,  the  expedi 
tion  found  itself  once  more  among  the  group  of  huts  which  was 
dignified  by  the  name  of  Taos.  The  proceeds  of  the  trip  were 
twenty-four  thousand  dollars,  which  soon  found  its  way  into  the 
pockets  of  the  men,  and  then  found  its  way  out  again,  for  the 
trapper  after  his  trip  is  like  the  sailor  home  from  his  voyage. 
It  was  the  chief  care  of  each  man  to  get  on  a  profound,  inglo 
rious,  and  terrible  drunk,  which  only  ended  with  his  money. 
On  this  occasion  Carson  yielded  somewhat  to  the  demoralizing 
atmosphere,  but  it  was  his  first  and  last  spree.  Nature  seemed 
to  have  made  him  a  gentleman  in  spite  of  his  rough  surround 
ings.  Refinement  is  a  quality  of  the  mind.  Wealth  and  luxury 
only  sharpen  the  outline  of  vulgarity.  The  frontier  cabin  of 
the  trapper,  where  a  woman  was  seldom  seen,  and  the  softening 
influence  of  children  was  unknown;  over  which  the  great  and 
jagged  Rockies  flung  the  chilly  shadows  of  an  early  sunset,, 
and  where  the  brutal  savages,  instead  of  turning  toward  the 
light  of  civilization,  rather  drew  the  pioneer  down  into  their  own 
gloom  and  brutality — this  frontier  cabin  only  served  to  throw 
into  bolder  relief  the  character  of  the  GENTLEMAN. 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1830  that  Kit  Carson  enlisted 
for  his  second  trapping  expedition.  He  was  greatly  sought 
after  for  this  purpose  by  the  organizers  of  trapping  parties. 
The  party  joined  by  Carson  passed  the  winter  in  quarters  on 


750  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Salmon  River,  and  began  their  real  work  with  the  season  of 
1831,  along  Snake  River,  on  which  are  the  famous  Shoshonee 
Falls,  more  than  one  third  higher  than  Niagara.  Meeting 
another  party  of  trappers,  Carson  learned  that  Captain  Gaunt, 
an  old  mountaineer,  with  a  small  company,  were  ten  days'  jour 
ney  to  the  south.  He  and  four  companions  resolved,  for  a 
change,  to  join  Gaunt,  and  after  a  rapid  journey  were  cordially 
welcomed  by  him. 

The  time  for  going  into  winter  quarters  was  at  hand.  This 
was  always  looked  forward  to  with  interest,  as  it  marked  a  great 
change  in  the  trapper's  mode  of  life.  No  longer  did  he  gallop 
with  free  rein  over  the  flower-embroidered  prairie ;  no  longer 
select  his  spot  for  the  evening  camp-fire,  and,  while  the  game, 
brought  down  by  his  own  expert  hand,  was  steaming  over  the 
coals,  and  flinging  its  savory  odor  upon  the  breeze,  busy  him 
self  with  baiting  and  setting  his  traps  at  the  water's  edge ;  and 
after  a  dash  in  the  cooling  current,  feast  upon  the  tempting 
meal;  then  with  his  saddle  for  a  pillow,  his  blanket  for  a  bed, 
and  the  star-fretted  sky  for  a  canopy,  sink  to  sleep,  as  the  dying 
embers  threw  their  fitful  flashes  more  and  more  dimly  into  the 
surrounding  forest. 

All  this  was  changed.  His  home,  when  in  winter  quarters, 
was  a  conical  tent  of  dressed  buffalo  skins,  supported  on  a  frame 
work  of  light  poles,  spread  out  in  a  circle  at  the  bottom,  and 
crossed  near  the  top,  where  they  were  held  by  being  thrust  through 
the  opening  in  the  buffalo  skins.  These  were  sewed  tightly  into 
the  shape  of  a  cone,  except  one  straight  seam,  which  was  fast 
ened  by  a  lacing  to  within  four  or  five  feet  of  the  ground.  The 
opening  thus  left  was  the  door,  over  which  a  buffalo  skin  was 
tightly  stretched.  The  bottom  of  the  tent  was  securely  fastened 
to  the  ground  by  wooden  pins.  In  the  center  of  this  tent,  which 
is  about  eighteen  feet  in  diameter,  and  fifteen  feet  high,  he  had 
his  fire,  the  smoke  from  which,  in  theory,  was  to  escape  by  the 
opening  above,  but,  in  fact,  filled  the  apartment. 

In  here  the  men  passed  their  days  and  nights,  except  when 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  751 

they  went  out  to  attend  to  their  horses.  Early  in  the  winter 
the  snow  fell  to  the  depth  of  six  feet,  and  removed  not  till  the 
spring.  Water  for  the  shaggy  Indian  ponies  had  to  be  obtained 
from  the  river  through  a  hole  chopped  in  the  ice.  These  hardy 
beasts  had  no  shelter  except  such  as  was  afforded  by  an  over 
hanging  rock,  and  some  forest  trees.  To  obtain  food  for  them 
was  a  serious  task.  It  had  to  be  done  by  cutting  down  cotton- 
wood  trees,  and  gathering  the  bark  and  branches  for  fodder. 
But  the  ponies  stood  it  as  well  as  the  men,  who  thought  them 
selves  comfortable  and  happy  in  their  warm  buffalo  tent.  Here 
they  slept  and  smoked,  told  stories  and  cooked  meals,  dressed 
their  skins,  or  ornamented  their  saddles. 

Not  a  small  part  of  their  time  did  they  spend  over  that 
magic  annihilator  of  time  and  surroundings — a  pack  of  cards! 
The  man  who  held  the  ace  of  trumps  never  failed  to  be  regarded 
as  a  marvelously  lucky  fellow,  and  the  fellow  with  two  bowers 
and  a  queen,  as  little  short  of  a  hero !  We  may  smile  at  these 
little  details  of  the  trapper's  life,  but  it  is  more  fitting  that  a  tear 
should  fall,  for  these  are  the  men,  some  of  whom  are  known  to 
Avorld-wide  fame,  as  the  hero  of  this  chapter,  but  many  of  whom 
are  unknown  to  history,  and  will  be  nameless  for  evermore — these 
are  the  men,  "  who,"  as  reads  our  title-page,  "  by  their  valor  and 
war-craft,  beat  back  the  savages  from  the  borders  of  civilization, 
and  gave  the  American  forests  to  the  plow  and  the  sickle."  All 
honor,  then,  to  the  brave  pioneer,  the  fruit  of  whose  toils  and 
triumphs  he  beheld  from  afar  off,  while  we  alone  have  lived  to 
enter  into  the  land  of  promise  ! 

One  cold  January  night,  some  Crow  Indians  succeeded  in 
stealing  nine  horses  from  the  camp.  A  dozen  men,  with  Carson, 
of  course,  at  their  head,  started  in  pursuit.  At  the  end  of  forty 
miles  their  horses,  weak  from  insufficient  food,  made  a  halt 
necessary,  and  they  turned  into  a  clump  of  woods.  Here  they 
unexpectedly  found  their  enemies.  Making  fast  their  horses, 
and  examining  their  guns,  Carson  directed  the  men  to  make  a 
detour,  so  as  to  approach  the  savages  from  the  direction  in 


752  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

which  they  least  expected  danger — that  in  which  they  traveled. 
To  get  close  enough  to  reconnoiter,  it  was  necessary  to  perform 
a  large  part  of  this  journey  crawling  through  the  deep  snow  on 
hands  and  knees.  In  this  way  they  were-  able  to  discover  two 
rude  forts,  in  which  a  large  force  of  Indians  were  performing 
the  war-dance.  The  nine  horses  were  tied  outside. 

To  insure  success  the  trappers,  in  spite  of  the  bitter  cold, 
lay  concealed  till  the  dance  ended,  and  the  last  sleepy  redskin 
snored  solemnly  in  the  darkness.  Carson  then  slipped  forward, 
cut  the  halters,  and  by  means  of  snow-balls  drove  the  horses 
away  without  noise.  Having  secured  them,  a  division  of  opinion 
was  found  as  to  whether  they  should  make  an  attack.  Carson 
and  two  others  strongly  urged  it,  as  otherwise  they  would  be 
pursued,  and  probably  have  to  fight  anyhow  under  less  favorable 
circumstances.  The  advice  of  Carson  was  followed,  and  they 
again  neared  the  sleeping  foe.  A  dog  in  the  camp  barked,  and 
the  warriors,  springing  to  their  feet,  became  marks  for  the  deadly 
rifles  of  the  pioneers.  Those  who  survived  the  first  fire  hur 
riedly  ran  to  the  other  fort.  A  desperate  sortie  was  repulsed 
with  the  loss  of  several  more.  At  daybreak  the  pioneers  with 
drew,  mounted  their  horses,  and  by  night  rejoined  their  com 
rades  at  quarters  on  the  Arkansas  River. 

In  the  spring  they  cached  their  furs,  and  broke  camp.  Three 
weeks  later,  while  on  the  South  Platte,  Carson  and  one  com 
panion  were  sent  by  Captain  Gaunt  in  pursuit  of  two  men  who 
had  deserted  the  party.  Suspecting  their  design,  Kit  made  for 
the  furs  in  cache  at  the  old  camp.  Three  hundred  pounds,  be 
longing  equally  to  the  entire  party,  were  missing,  and  the 
deserters,  probably  killed  by  the  Indians,  were  never  heard  of 
afterward.  Failing  to  recover  the  furs,  Carson  and  his  compan 
ion  felt  that  a  return  to  Gaunt's  party  was  unwise  and  imprac 
ticable.  They  therefore  repaired  the  old  log  fortification  which 
had  surrounded  their  buffalo  tent  the  winter  before,  and,  without 
venturing  out  of  it  much,  managed  to  keep  well  supplied  with 
game.  Here  the  two  men  lived  for  a  month,  one  of  them  always 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  753 

on  guard,  anxiously  looking  for  relief,  which  came  at  last. 
Gaunt  had  entirely  given  them  up,  fearing  that  they  had  at 
tempted  to  return  to  him  and  had  been  killed  by  the  Indians 
of  the  region,  who  were  on  the  war-path. 

The  journey  to  rejoin  the  main  body  of  Gaunt's  party  proved 
exceedingly  dangerous,  even  for  the  band  of  twenty-one  veteran 
trappers.  On  several  occasions  a  stampede  occurred,  by  which 
they  lost  a  horse  or  two.  The  stampede  is  accomplished  by  the 
Indians  turning  loose  some  wild  horses,  which  are  trained  to 
dash  at  full  speed  through  the  camp  of  the  white  men.  All  the 
picketed  horses,  being  greatly  excited,  attempt  to  follow,  more  or 
less  succeeding  in  breaking  loose,  and  rushing  with  their  wild 
companions  into  an  Indian  lair,  much  as  greenies  fall  a  prey 
to  the  seductive  wiles  of  the  confidence  man. 

One  morning  Carson  took  a  trio  of  companions  to  cross  a 
range  and  look  for  beaver.  Their  outward  path  was  by  a  precip 
itous  way  directly  across  the  mountain.  But  in  the  afternoon 
as  they  turned  home  a  longer  walk  was  found  more  practicable 
for  the  descent.  As  they  were  leisurely  riding  back  to  the 
camp  there  suddenly  appeared  in  their  path,  directly  in  front 
of  them,  four  powerful  and  splendidly  mounted  Indians,  decked 
out  in  fantastic  plumes  and  gayly  colored  paint,  indicating  un 
mistakably  that  they  were  on  the  war-path.  The  emergency 
demanded  an  immediate  decision  as  to  the  best  course  to  pursue. 
In  all  likelihood  these  warriors  were  only  the  advance  guard  of 
a  large  war  party  ambushed  behind  the  rocks.  To  advance  was 
dangerous,  yet  to  retreat  was  to  be  pursued  and  almost  cer 
tainly  overtaken  and  killed.  The  three  other  men  turned  to 
Carson,  who  without  a  word  dug  his  spurs  deep  into  the  sides 
of  his  mustang,  and,  closely  followed  by  the  others,  dashed  at 
full  speed  upon  the  astonished  braves.  In  a  moment  sixty 
splendid  warriors  were  discovered  in  ambush  near  the  trail. 
Thick  and  fast  flew  their  bullets.  Kit  and  his  three  friends, 
throwing  themselves  as  much  as  possible  to  the  other  side  of 
their  horses,  dashed  on  without  returning  a  shot.  They  were 

42 


754  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

running  the  gauntlet.  In  three  minutes  they  would  either  be 
safe  or  for  ever  silent. 

At  one  point  the  copper-faced  devils  were  within  sixty  feet 
of  them.  But  in  their  surprise  at  the  boldness  of  the  trappers, 
their  aim  was  unsteady,  and  in  a  few  moments  Carson  had 
reached  the  camp,  alive  and  unhurt.  Two  of  his  companions 
had  received  severe  Wounds,  and  on  the  following  day,  when 
the  march  was  resumed,  it  was  necessary  to  take  two  poles,  let 
the  ends  rest  on  two  trusty  horses,  and  swing  a  buffalo  robe  in 
the  center  as  a  litter  for  the  wounded  men. 

When  they  reached  Gaunt  the  hunt  for  beaver  was  found  to 
have  been  unsuccessful,  and  the  ill  luck  continued.  Tired  of 
going  empty-handed,  Kit  Carson  resolved  to  strike  out  and  try 
it  alone.  Two  companions  volunteered  to  join  him,  in  spite  of 
the  greatly  increased  danger  of  trapping  with  such  a  small 
party.  After  several  months  of  great  success,  attained  by  the 
superior  skill  of  Garson,  they  returned  to  Taos,  and  disposed 
of  their  furs  at  advantageous  prices. 

The  humdrum  life  in  the  mud  huts  of  Taos  was  dull  enough 
to  poor  Kit,  with  his  fierce  love  of  adventure,  and  thrusting 
away  all  notion  of  settling  down  after  his  two  years  of  absence, 
he  soon  arranged  to  join  a  trading  party.  They  had  been  out 
some  weeks  when  they  met  another  party  of  traders,  commanded 
by  Mr.  Robidaux.  Right  gladly  did  they  grasp  each  other's 
hands  and  interchange  stories  of  their  luck.  The  snow  began 
to  fall  soon  after  the  meeting,  and  the  men  took  the  hint  to  go 
into  winter  quarters.  For  the  purposes  of  companionship  and 
security  the  two  parties  arranged  to  encamp  together. 

Again  Carson  began  that  wonderful  life  in  the  buffalo  lodge 
of  which  we  have  spoken.  Again,  as  the  storm  raged  without, 
the  men  lay  around  the  fire  in  their  warm  but  wind-shaken  tent, 
and  with  many  a  yarn  and  jest  drowned  out  the  dreary  roar  of 
the  tempest.  On  these  occasions  Carson  was  much  less  of  a 
talker  than  the  other  fellows.  He  joined  heartily  in  the  laugh, 
but  except  when  the  talk  took  a  practical  turn,  as  to  what 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  755 

would  have  been  the  safest  way  to  deal  with  the  redskins  on 
some  occasion,  or  how  a  trapper  who  was  lost,  and  without  a 
gun,  might  manage,  he  rarely  spoke.  It  was  rather  his  forte 
to  furnish  the  theme  of  conversation  by  some  daring  exploit 
of  his  own. 

Among  Mr.  Robidaux's  company  was  a  keen  and  shrewd 
California  Indian,  who  was  valued  for  his  skill  rather  than 
esteemed  for  his  trustworthiness.  One  morning  six  of  the 
finest  horses,  worth  two  hundred  dollars  apiece,  were  missing, 
and  this  fellow  as  well.  Illy  able  to  thus  lose  the  entire  profits 
of  his  expedition,  Robidaux  asked  Carson  to  attempt  a  reprisal. 
Kit,  though  prudent  when  only  his  own  interests  were  at  stake, 
shrank  from  no  danger  to  help  a  friend.  To  help  him  on  his 
perilous  mission  Carson  determined  to  select  a  first  class  brave 
from  a  village  of  friendly  Utahs  near  by.  His  choice  was  soon 
made,  and  the  Utah  seemed  proud  of  the  honor.  Both  were 
splendidly  mounted,  and  quickly  striking  the  trail  of  the  flying 
thief,  they  dashed  on  their  errand  of  vengeance.  No  man 
could  follow  a  trail  or  read  its  characteristics  more  rapidly  than 
Kit  Carson,  although  still  the  youngest  man  of  his  party,  being 
yet  only  twenty-three  years  old — "  the  boy,"  as  the  old  trappers 
affectionately  called  him. 

Hardly  for  a  moment  was  the  rein  drawn  for  the  first  hun 
dred  miles,  and  Kit  felt  confident  of  overtaking  the  treacherous 
rascal  within  two  or  three  days.  After  a  few  hours'  halt  the 
first  night,  they  were  preparing  to  start  again,  when  Carson's 
Indian  companion  affirmed  that  his  horse  had  broken  down  and 
he  could  go  no  farther.  That  the  noble  animal  was  sick  was 
evident,  but  Kit  strongly  suspected  that  it  had  been  purposely 
made  so.  Should  he  turn  back?  The  savage  he  pursued  was 
an  experienced  and  dangerous  fighter,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  no 
doubt  desperate.  Thinking  only  of  his  friejid,  the  heroic  fellow 
left  his  companion,  and  flew  along  the  trail  alone.  Alone  in 
the  wilderness !  Around  him  stretched  the  illimitable  plains, 
bounded,  to  the  eye,  only  by  the  gloomy  Rockies,  which  from 


756 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


afar  could  be  seen  lying  in  eternal  and  majestic  repose.  Not  a 
sound  broke  the  stillness  of  the  morning  but  the  rapid  thud, 
thud  of  his  horse's  hoofs  as  they  rose  and  fell  in  the  snowy 
trail,  with  the  regularity  of  a  machine.  Sometimes  a  thought 


CARSON  KILLING  THE  HORSE-THIEF. 


of  the  brave  mother  whom  he  had  left  years  before  in  the  little 
Missouri  clearing  would  force  itself  upward  as  his  gallant  steed 
bore  him  on  to  what  might  be  death. 

He  had  left  his   companion  about  thirty  miles  to  the  rear 
when  he  discovered  the  chase.     The  pace  of  pursuer  and  pur- 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  757 

sued  became  terrific.  A  spectator  seeing  those  two  figures,  and 
wondering  at  the  singular  sight,  would  have  seen  the  one  behind 
gradually  gaining  on  the  other.  Seeing  this,  the  Indian  began 
to  make  for  some  rocks  behind  which  he  could  fire  at  his  pur 
suer  as  he  approached,  and  reload  without  exposure.  The  plan 
was  good.  It  had  almost  succeeded.  But  behind  him  was  the 
Hero  of  the  Rockies.  Without  pausing  an  instant  in  his  tre 
mendous  career,  Carson  -unslung  his  rifle,  and  with  the  aim  that 
never  missed,  shot  his  enemy  through  the  heart,  just  as  he 
turned  behind  the  cover.  At  the  same  instant  the  other's  gun 
went  off,  but  in  a  wild  direction.  When  Carson  returned  to  the 
winter  camp  with  the  stolen  horses  he  was  greeted  with  a  cheer. 
Not  alone  in  that  camp  was  the  exploit  talked  over  on  many  an 
evening  ;  but  borne  in  some  mysterious  manner  through  the 
wilderness,  the  story  of  the  deed  was  the  favorite  theme  around 
a  hundred  camp  fires. 

Carson  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life.  As  on  a  previous 
occasion,  he  had  left  the  main  party  and  with  three  picked  com 
panions  had  undertaken  a  separate  expedition.  One  night  the 
little  party  had  made  their  evening  halt.  They  had  been  with 
out  meat  for  some  days.  Kit  picked  up  his  rifle  and  started 
out  to  look  around.  About  a  mile  from  the  camp  he  was  elated 
with  the  sight  of  some  magnificent  elk.  Gaining  the  cover  of 
some  low,  scraggy  pine  trees,  he  succeeded,  by  great  care,  in 
getting  within  gunshot  of  the  prize.  Without  dwelling  on  his 
aim,  he  sped  a  bullet  after  the  largest  and  fattest  buck  in  the 
herd,  and  with  one  bound  the  noble  creature  fell  dead  with  a 
fearful  wound  through  his  heart  and  lungs. 

Scarcely  had  the  echoing  ring  of  the  shot  died  away,  when 
Carson  heard  a  terrific  roar  coming  directly  from  the  woods 
behind  him.  Turning  instantly  to  discover  its  source,  Carson 
saw  two  immense  grizzly  bears  bounding  towards  him,  their 
eyes  blazing  with  anger,  their  white  teeth  glistening  with  rage 
and  hunger,  their  forearms  hung  with  huge  bony  claws  with 
which  to  tear  and  mangle  his  flesh.  Flinging  down  his  empty 


758 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


rifle,  for  which  he  would  have  given  worlds,  if  the  little  leaden 
bullet  in  the  heart  of  the  elk  had  never  left  its  barrel,  he  fairly 
flew  over  the  ground  in  his  race  for  the  nearest  tree.  It  was  a 
goal  for  which  life  was  the  stake.  He  had  just  grasped  a  limb 


CARSON  ATTACKED  BY  GRIZZLIES. 

and  swung  upward  as  the  infuriated  beasts  brushed  its  trunk. 
It  would  be  but  a  moment,  however,  till  they  would  commence 
to  climb  the  tree,  an  art  in  which  they  would  succeed  quite  as 
well  as  Kit.  Providentially  a  bear  has  a  tender  nose.  With 
his  glittering  hunting  knife  Carson  hacked  off  a  serviceable  little 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  759 

club.  When  Messrs.  Bruin  began  to  ascend  the  trunk,  in  order 
to  secure  the  evening  meal;  into  which '  their  imaginations  had 
already  transformed  poor  Kit,  they  received  the  compliment  of 
smart  raps  on  their  lovely  noses.  With  a  mingled  roar  of  rage 
and  pain  they  quickly  descended,  only,  as  the  agony  wore  off, 
to  renew  their  ambitious  toil. 

This  drama  of  the  gentlemen  Bruin  ascending,  getting  their 
snouts  tickled,  and  letting  go  in  their  dreadful  anguish,  held 
the  boards  for  several  hours.  They  felt  greatly  injured.  First, 
Carson  had  beaten  them  in  the  race,  and  they  were  conscience- 
smitten  over  a  life  of  previous  indulgence  in  the  pleasures  of 
the  table,  which  had  impaired  their  condition  as  racers.  Then 
he  had  beaten  them  at  their  own  pet  game  of  climbing  trees, 
and  finally  his  undue  familiarity  with  their  noses  was  offen 
sive.  Again  and  again  they  tried  to  tear  him  out  of  the  tree ; 
again  and  again  he  drew  the  claret  with  his  club.  At  last,  in 
their  disappointment  and  grief  they  sat  down  and  had  a  regular 
cry,  after  which  they  gloomily  slunk  off  into  the  forest,  at  a 
little  time  after  which  our  hero  felt  safe  in  descending  from  his 
roost.  It  was  well  into  the  night  when  he  reached  his  alarmed 
companions.  The  story  had  to  take  the  place  of  a  supper. 
Long  before  morning  the  body  of  the  noble  elk  had  become  the 
prey  of  the  ignoble  wolves. 

In  July  Carson,  for  the  first  time,  attended  the  summer  ren 
dezvous  on  Green  River,  at  which  all  the  traders  and  trappers 
out  in  the  mountains  met  for  purposes  of  trade  and  barter.  It 
was  a  characteristic  scene  in  the  pioneer's  life.  Not  a  trader's 
pack  was  opened  until  all  the  parties  known  to  be  in  the  mount 
ains  had  arrived.  The  lodges  were  struck  in  convenient  spots, 
and  around  the  roaring  camp-fires  the  lonely  trapper  passed  the 
happiest  part  of  the  year.  The  rendezvous  was  a  sort  of  a  fair. 
There  were  annually  gathered  together  two  or  three  hundred 
white  men,  and  not  a  few  Indians.  It  was  the  time  for  the 
exchange  of  yarns  and  experiences,  for  gambling  and  horse 
racing,  for  quarrels  and  fights,  as  well  as  for  barter. 


760 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


Among  the  crowd  was  a  swaggering,  bullying  Frenchman, 
named  Shunan,  who  had  whipped  two  men  under  his  size  in  one 
day,  and  boasted  that  he  "  could  lick  all  the  Americans  in  the 
mountains."  He  had  rather  cowed  the  men,  and  as  no  one  else 
seemed  disposed  to  stop  his  insults,  Carson  quietly  determined 


ENCOUNTER  BETWEEN   CARSON  AND  SHUNAN. 

to  make  it  his  own  affair.  Stepping  up  to  the  bully,  who  was 
twice  his  size,  he  said,  in  the  presence  of  a  crowd  :  "  Shunan, 
there  are  a  dozen  men  here  who  can  whip  you.  Keep  your 
mouth  shut,  or  I  will  be  under  the  necessity  of  killing  you." 
According  to  the  trapper  code,  both  men  went  hurriedly  to  their 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  7O1 

lodges,  and,  mounting  their  horses,  prepared  to  fight.  The 
crowd  embraced  every  one  on  the  ground.  Shunan  had  his 
rifle ;  Carson,  in  the  hurry,  had  picked  up  only  a  single-barreled 
horse  pistol.  The  two  men  rode  rapidly  toward  each  other, 
until  their  horses'  heads  almost  touched.  Suddenly  reining  up, 
Carson  said,  "  Are  you  looking  for  me  ?  "  "  No,"  was  the  lying 
answer  of  the  man,,  as  he  lifted  his  rifle  to  shoot.  But,  before 
he  could  fire,  Carson  had  lodged  a  ball  in  Shunan' s  right  fore 
arm,  disabling  his  antagonist  and  saving  himself. 

Such  is  the  code  of  the  frontier.  Where  men  have  no  law 
they  become  legislators  themselves ;  where  they  have  no  judge, 
or  jury,  or  executioner,  they  quickly  fill  all  these  functions 
themselves.  Such  is  the  demand  of  the  mind  for  law  and  judg 
ment,  and  such  are  its  resources  when  thrown  upon  itself. 
These  things  are  right.  They  are  the  beginnings  of  the  mighty 
struggle  for  law,  a  struggle  which,  in  proportion  to  its  success, 
means  the  crushing  out  of  barbarism,  cruelty,  violence,  and 
injustice,  and  the  uplifting  of  civilization  and  order,  humanity 
and  righteousness. 

Two  months  after  the  breaking  up  of  the  rendezvous,  Car 
son's  party  suffered  the  usual  theft  of  their  horses  by  Indians, 
and  as  inevitably  Kit  and  a  dozen  men  started  out  in  pursuit. 
On  overtaking  them  the  redskins  made  signs  of  friendship,  and 
protested  their  innocent  intentions.  Each  party  laid  down  their 
arms,  and  marched  to  a  point  midway  between,  for  a  conference. 
The  trappers  stated  promptly  that  "  peace  talk "  must  be  pre 
ceded  by  the  surrender  of  their  horses.  With  much  evasion, 
the  Indians'  chief  offered  to  return  five  of  the  poorest  horses, 
as  all  he  could  do.  On  hearing  this,  the  trappers  broke  and 
ran  for  their  guns.  Kit  and  a  man  named  Markhead,  being  in 
the  lead,  on  the  return,  selected  the  two  advance  Indians  for 
adversaries.  Carson  was  about  to  fire  at  his  man,  when  he 
suddenly  saw  Markhead  examining  the  lock  of  his  gun,  while 
his  foe  had  a  rifle  leveled  at  him.  True  to  his  nature,  Kit  fired 
at  Markhead's  adversary,  killing  him,  thus  saving  Markhead, 


762  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

but  at  imminent  risk  to  himself.  •  His  own  adversary  took  ad 
vantage  of  his  opportunity  to  fire,  but  inflicted  only  a  dangerous 
wound  on  Carson's  shoulder.  As  their  leader  fell,  several  of 
the  trappers  sprang  forward  to  bear  him  bleeding  from  the  field. 

As  darkness  came  on,  the  fighting  ceased,  and  the  men 
gathered  in  their  camp.  The  cold  was  intense,  but  no  fire  could 
be  lighted,  as.  it  would  reveal  their  whereabouts  to  the  savages. 
Disheartened  by  the  misfortune  of  Carson,  whose  life-blood 
ebbed  in  crimson  tide  upon  the  spotless  snow,  they  determined 
to  retreat,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  Carson  returned  to 
his  command  without  the  horses  of  which  he  had  gone  in  search. 

The  fall  hunt,  this  year,  was  unsuccessful,  and  Carson's 
party  divided  on  Big  Snake  River,  Kit's  company  of  five  men 
starting  to  Fort  Hall.  The  country  through  which  they  traveled 
was  barren,  and  their  provisions  were  soon  exhausted.  For 
days  they  subsisted  on  a  root  which  they  found  in  small  quan 
tities.  At  last  this  disappeared.  Then  they  bled  their  mules 
and  drank  the  blood.  This  weakened  the  animals  till  it  could 
be  carried  no  further.  The  horrors  of  starvation  confronted 
them.  When  they  went  supperless  to  sleep,  the  famished  men 
in  their  dreams  beheld  the  greatest  abundance  of  game  and 
food,  but  could  not  quite  partake  of  it.  Now  the  sleeper  would 
behold  a  herd  of  elk ;  just  as  he  had  almost  come  within  gun 
shot,  the  animals  would  mockingly  bound  away.  Now,  hungered 
from  a  long  hunt,  he  sat  by  the  fire  watching  the  steaming  mess 
in  the  camp  kettle,  when,  just  as  it  was  ready  for  his  watering 
mouth,  the  kettle  turned  over,  and  its  savory  contents  were  lost. 
Now  he  was  putting  to  his  mouth  a  rare  bit  of  buffalo  liver, 
when  the  cry  of  "  Indians  "  made  him  jump  for  his  gun,  and 
snatched  him  away  from  the  un tasted  morsel. 

In  their  extremity,  a  band  of  impoverished  but  friendly 
Indians  were  met,  who,  without  any  hope  of  recompense,  divided 
their  own  too  meager  supplies  with  the  famished  whites,  and 
by  this  kind  help  from  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  Carson  was  en 
abled  to  conduct  his  party  to  the  hospitable  fort.  Here  the 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  763 

exhausted  men  recuperated  rapidly,  and  in  two  weeks  were 
eager  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  the  stories  of  wonderful  buffalo 
herds  two  hundred  miles  to  the  northeast,  which  were  heard  by 
them  in  their  enforced  inactivity. 

Every  thing  being  in  readiness,  Carson  and  his  men  started 
out  from  their  haven  of  safety,  and  two  days  brought  them  in 
sight  of  what  the  novice  would  at  first  view  have  thought  a 
distant  forest,  but  from  which,  at  a  great  distance,  could  be 
heard  a  dull  and  thunderous  roar.  A  nearer  approach  revealed 
a  bellowing  multitude  of  buffalo,  so  great  that  no  man  could 
number  them.  In  every  part  of  the  vast  herd  were  going  on 
deadly  combats  between  rival  beasts.  Over  the  combatants  rose 
a  dense  cloud  of  dust,  through  which  could  be  caught  glimpses 
of  the  bloody  conflict.  Without  delaying  to  watch  the  wonder 
ful  sight,  the  trappers  rapidly  skirte'd  the  herds,  and  directed 
their  course  toward  a  narrow  valley  or  ravine,  in  which  were  to 
be  had  timber  for  the  poles  on  which  to  dry  the  meat,  and  water 
for  the  horses.  Long  before  day  they  were  up,  and  a  part  of 
them  had  commenced  driving  one  of  the  detached  herds  toward 
this  valley.  The  stupid  but  timid  buffalo  headed  for  the  fatal 
trap  at  a  full  gallop. 

Meanwhile  the  other  men  had  carefully  posted  themselves 
at  the  other  outlets  of  the  valley.  In  a  little  while  the  "  sur 
round  "  was  complete.  Then  with  a  yell  each  man  dashed  in 
and  closed  on  the  game.  Desperately  did  the  powerful  crea 
tures  dash  from  side  to  side  in  frantic  effort  to  escape.  Some, 
in  fact,  broke  through  the  corral r,*but  in  spite  of  this  the  slaugh 
ter  was  immense.  Many  of  the  buffalo,  bewildered  by  the 
attacks  on  every  side,  almost  stood  still  in  the  agony  of  their 
terror,  and  waited  for  their  executioner.  In  less  than  ten  min 
utes  fifty  of  them  had  fallen  to  rise  no  more.  Poles  were  then 
planted  in  the  ground  and  strung  with  ropes  of  hide,  on  which 
the  strips  of  meat  were  hung  for  curing  in  the  sun.  When  suf 
ficiently  dried  it  was  packed  in  bales.  When  all  their  horses 
were  loaded,  the  slow  march  back  to  the  fort  was  begun. 


764  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Unknown  to  the  trappers,  their  train  had  a  constant  escort 
from  their  sworn  enemies,  the  Blackfeet  Indians.  No  attack  was 
made,  however.  At  the  fort  the  horses  were  placed  in  a  fenced 
inclosure  for  protection,  and  a  sentry  placed  on  watch.  One 
night  the  fellow  on  guard,  perhaps  a  little  the  worse  for  liquor, 
saw  two  men  approach  the  bars,  let  them  down,  and  deliberately 
commence  driving  every  horse  out  into  the  prairie.  It  never 
occurred  to  Mr.  Guard  that  the  Indians  would  come  except  in 
force,  and  his  intelligent  mind  never  doubted  that  the  two  men 
were  his  comrades,  who  had  orders  to  take  the  horses  outside 
for  better  pasturage.  Thanking  his  lucky  stars  for  the  relief, 
he  said  nothing  to  his  industrious  friends,  but  curled  down  in  a 
fence  corner  and  went  to  sleep.  In  the  morning  it  was  found 
that  the  Blackfeet  had,  without  firing  a  gun  or  losing  a  brave, 
run  off  every  horse  and  mule  belonging  to  the  fort,  and  left  the 
enraged  trappers  without  an  animal  on  which  to  make  pursuit. 
It  came  near  terminating  even  more  seriously  for  poor  Sim- 
monds,  the  sentry.  Several  of  the  trappers  in  their  rage  threat 
ened  to  kill  him,  and,  by  way  of  emphasis,  put  a  few  rifle  shots 
through  his  fur  hat  as  it  rested  on  his  own  precious  head. 

This  little  trick  of  their  Blackfeet  friends  was  not  forgotten, 
when,  in  the  following  spring,  a  strong  body  of  the  trappers 
found  themselves  in  proximity  to  the  chief  village  of  the  nation. 
Kit  Carson  and  a  friend  or  two,  after  a  careful  reconnoiter, 
reported  that  there  were  signs  of  a  hurried  removal  to  be  seen. 
Every  heart  in  the  company  beat  high  with  the  excitement  of 
approaching  revenge,  the  darkest  passion  of  human  nature. 
Forty-three  picked  men,  under  the  command  of  Carson,  were 
detailed  for  the  fight ;  the  remaining  fifty -five  were  to  guard  the 
valuable  stores  of  the  party,  and  advance  slowly  as  a  reserve. 
With  a  wild  yell  the  trappers  charged  the  village,  killing  a  dozen 
braves  in  an  instant.  But  the  Indians  were  the  children  of  a 
noble  tribe,  brave,  strong,  skillful,  and  well  equipped.  They 
quickly  rallied,  and  commenced  a  bloody  struggle,  which  lasted 
over  three  hours,  an  unusual  time  for  Indian  warfare.  Every 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  765 

man  was  concealed  behind  trees,  rocks,  or  whatever  could  afford 
protection.  Sometimes  the  same  rock  would  afford  cover  for  an 
Indian  and  a  trapper.  Neither  could  leave  the  place  without 
being  killed.  For  an  hour  the  two  men  would  seek  to  kill  each 
other.  At  last,  in  a  moment  of  negligence  or  unskillfulness,  pne 
of  them  would  bite  the  dust. 

The  trappers  retained  the  advantage  gained  at  the  outset 
until  the  prolonged  combat  began  to  exhaust  their  ammunition. 
The  sagacious  redskins  at  once  divined  the  cause  of  the  slack 
ened  fire,  and  charged  on  their  foes.  The  hand  to  hand  engage 
ment  is  the  one  in  which  individual  skill  and  heroism  develops 
its  noblest  examples.  The  trappers,  by  the  use  of  their  red 
dened  knives'  and  smoking  pistols,  again  and  again  drove  back 
their  assailants,  but  at  last  were  driven  to  a  stubborn  retreat. 
In  executing  this  movement,  the  horse  of  a  mountaineer  named 
Cotton,  who  was  at  the  extreme  right  of  the  field  of  battle, 
stumbled  and  fell,  pinning  his  rider  to  the  earth.  Carson's  keen 
eye,  which  incessantly  swept  the  entire  field,  perceived  the  acci 
dent  at  the  same  time  that  a  half  dozen  dusky  warriors  bounded 
forward  to  scalp  the  unfortunate  man.  Springing  from  his 
horse,  with  a  rallying  cry  to  his  now  scattered  men,  Carson  ran 
toward  his  friend,  and,  taking  aim  as  he  ran,  .shot  the  foremost 
savage  down.  The  trappers  now  came  running  from  all  direc 
tions  at  their  commander's  call,  and  the  remaining  five  braves 
started  for  cover.  Only  two  of  them  ever  reached  it.  Cotton, 
with  a  little  help,  extricated  himself  from  the  painful  situation 
in  which  his  accident  left  him. 

Seing  that  Cotton  was  all  right,  Carson  turned  to  look  for 
his  horse,  and  found  that  he  had  run  away.  It  was  no  time  or 
place  to  remain  on  foot.  The  savages  might  overtake  him  at 
any  moment.  Ready  for  any  emergency,  Kit  mounted  behind 
one  of  his  comrades,  and  in  this  position  waited  till  his  runaway 
horse  could  be  recaptured.  When  the  reserve  came  up  with  its 
precious  supplies  of  ammunition,  the  trappers  prepared  to  make 
a  final  and  crushing  attack  on  the  Indians.  This  last  struggle 


766  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

resulted  in  the  disastrous  defeat  of  the  tribe,  and  so  broke  its 
power  and  spirit  that  for  years  the  trappers  and  hunters  pur 
sued  their  occupation  without  molestation  from  the  humbled 
Blackfeet. 

At  the  summer  rendezvous  Kit  arranged  to  join  a  couple  of 
traders  who  had  planned  an  expedition  into  the  Navajoe  country. 
This  tribe  had  attained  a  sort  of  red  man's  civilization,  a  thing 
which  is  perfectly  possible.  All  civilizations  are  not  alike. 
The  Chinese  civilization  is  the  oldest  on  the  globe,  yet  among 
the  lower  classes  a  rat  is  a  great  dainty  at  the  dinner  table ; 
from  twelve  to  twenty  persons  of  all  ages  and  either  sex  sleep 
huddled  together  in  a  single  small  room ;  a  few  cents  constitute  a 
day's  wages.  India  has  her  cities  and  commerce ;'  her  religions 
older  far  than  Christianity;  her  temples  of  marble,  ivory,  and 
gold,  the  architecture  of  which  is  unequaled  on  the  globe ;  but 
in  India  are  found  fanatics  who  have  held  their  right  arms  up 
ward  for  twenty  years,  until  the  joints  have  become  solid  bone, 
covered  with  shriveled  parchment,  and  the  extended  members 
can  not  be  lowered.  There  is,  too,  a  civilization  in  Russia,  a 
civilization  of  fashion,  aristocracy,  and  wealth,  of  colleges,  of 
railroads,  of  libraries,  and  palaces.  In  Russia  it  was  that  her 
ruler  employed  the  idle  laborers  in  constructing,  at  untold  cost, 
a  magnificent  winter  palace  made  entirely  of  ice,  and  destined 
to  melt  away  as  the  summer  sun  flung  his  radiance  across  its 
crystal  towers ;  and  it  was  the  czar  of  all  the  Russias  who  by 
the  stroke  of  his  pen  peacefully  emancipated  twenty  million 
serfs.  Yet  in  this  same  country,  where  the  body  is  free,  the 
mind  is  in  chains.  Torture  and  the  executioner's  ax  paralyze 
not  merely  the  tongue  but  the  intellect  as  well.  Worse  than 
these  penalties  are  those  by  which  wise  and  good  men,  valuable 
members  of  society,  are  sent  to  the  terrible  mines  of  Siberia. 
There  in  the  darkness  alike  of  day  and  night  they  spend  the 
remainder  of  their  lives.  College  professors,  scientists,  and 
editors,  treated  worse  than  the  blackest  felons,  toil  on  in  these 
fearful  abodes  of  torture,  losing  eyesight,  hair,  teeth,  strength, 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON. 


767 


intelligence,  until  at  last  they  drop  their  fetters  and  leap  into 
the  skeleton  arms  of  Death.     Yet  Russia  is  civilized. 

So  we  say  that  though  an  Indian  civilization  might  possess 
many  elements  strange  and  grotesque  in  our  eyes,  still  it  was  a 


THE   RESCUE   OF  COTTON. 


[See  page  765.] 


possibility.  The  Navajoes  had  something  approaching  it.  They 
were  wealthy,  and  fond  of  their  possessions.  Their  customs 
were  somewhat  settled.  They  knew  the  art  of  weaving  beauti 
ful  blankets,  and  manufacturing  many  other  articles  which  com 
manded  high  prices.  Carson  and  his  fellow  traders  found  a 


768  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND 'ROMANCES. 

ready  market  among  them  for  their  merchandise,  and  returned 
from  their  trip  with  large  herds  of  splendid  horses  and  mules, 
loaded  down  with  valuable  blankets  and  furs. 

For  the  next  year  or  two  Carson  went  ahead  with  his  life- 
of  hunting  and  trapping.  His  character  is  in  marked  contrast 
with  those  of  his  companions.  Carson  was  a  kind-hearted, 
even-tempered,  and  intensely  practical  man.  Though  a  sparing 
talker,  he  was  one  of  those  geniuses  who  perform  every  thing 
they  undertake  with  skill,  rapidity,  and  success.  He  had  a  re 
markably  smooth,  well-balanced,  and  symmetrical  nature,  which 
was  rare  for  a  trapper,  who  was  generally  a  dare-devil,  crack- 
brained  fellow,  utterly  reckless,  erratic,  and  without  stability  of 
purpose.  So  far  from  making  trapping  and  hunting  his  life- 
work,  he  had  ordinarily  followed  a  dozen  different  callings — 
now  making  Sunday-school  speeches  in  the  Eastern  cities ;  now 
selling  patent  medicine  in  the  malarial  districts  of  the  Middle 
States ;  now  preaching  to  the  Indians ;  and  now  a  New  Mexican 
desperado  and  cut-throat. 

This  was  just  about  the  career  of  Williams,  an  old  fellow 
who  was  with  Carson  at  this  time.  He  had  translated  the 
Bible  into  two  Indian  dialects.  His  irregular  genius  showed 
itself  in  an  incident  in  a  Mexican  town.  He  was  at  the  time  a 
trader  or  shopkeeper  there.  One  day  some  of  his  customers 
complained  of  his  prices,  and  undertook  to  jew  him  down. 
Williams  flew  into  a  terrible  rage.  He  blasphemed  and  abused 
them  in  the  most  horrible  manner.  Finally,  springing  on  them 
like  a  tiger,  he  kicked  them  all  out  of  his  little  booth  or  lodge ; 
and,  as  if  disgusted  with  the  whole  community,  commenced 
throwing  his  goods  and  merchandise,  helter-skelter,  into  the 
street,  nor  did  he  stop  till  his  booth  was  entirely  dismantled. 
Then  with  horrid  curses,  and  his  eyes  ablaze  with  insane  fury, 
he  seized  his  rifle,  and  shaking  the  dust  of  the  place  from  his 
feet,  he  angrily  took  himself  off  to  the  mountains. 

Another  one  of  these  eccentric  characters,  one  who  stood 
high  in  the  trapper  profession,  was  a  fellow  named  Mitchell. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  769 

He  had  at  one  time  acquired  the  notion  of  some  wonderful  gold 
mines  being  hidden  away  in  the  mountains  of  northern  Texas. 
With  the  purpose  of  discovering 'them,  he  joined  the  Comanche 
nation,  became  one  of  their  braves,  married  a  pretty  Indian 
squaw,  and  for  some  years  was  one  of  their  leaders  in  battle, 
and  a  terror  to  their  foes.  Becoming  convinced  that  the  gold 
mines  were  myths,  he  made  to  his  Comanche  friends  some  plausi 
ble  excuse  for  a  temporary  absence,  and  left  them  forever. 

Some  years  after  that  period  of  Carson's  life  of  which  we 
are  now  speaking,  Mitchell  made  a  trading  trip  into  Kansas.  It 
was  the  first  time  in  many  years  that  he  had  been  in  the  States. 
Kansas  was  just  in  the  convulsion  of  political  passion  which 
preceded  the  civil  war.  The  free-soilers  and  pro-slavery  men 
were  carrying  on  a  guerrilla  warfare,  each  trying  to  drive  the 
other  out  of  the  state.  Farm-houses  were  burned ;  men  were  fired 
upon  from  thickets  as  they  passed  along  the  road ;  corpses  were 
found  in  the  forest  with  knives  sticking  in  their  hearts.  All 
this  seemed  natural  enough  to  Mitchell,  with  his  frontier  notions, 
but  his  trip  was  a  business  one.  In  his  lonely  life  in  the  moun 
tains,  Mitchell  had  remained  ignorant  of  all  political  issues. 
With  the  instinctive  caution  of  the  frontiersman,  as  well  as  from 
the  natural  reserve  which  he  felt  when  among  civilized  (!)  men, 
he  avoided  all  conversation  on  political  questions.  Patriotism 
and  suspicion  at  once  spotted  him  as  a  dangerous  man,  and 
caused  him  to  be  avoided  or  treated  with  indifference  and  marked 
reserve.  Once  he  was  seen  reading  a  newspaper  with  great  in 
terest.  It  was  a  fragment  of  an  old  New  Orleans  paper,  bitterly 
pro-slavery.  He  was  observed  to  put  it  carefully  in  his  pocket. 
That  night  a  masked  company  of  free-soilers  told  him  to  leave 
town  in  six  hours,  or  he  would  be  killed.  He  left.  The  article 
he  had  been  reading  related  to  a  new  way  of  making  hats,  in 
which  silk  was  substituted  for  beaver  fur,  and  prophesying  that 
the  latter  would  be  entirely  supplanted  ! 

On  another  occasion  he  went  into  a  store  to  buy  a  lot  of 
powder  and  ball  to  take  back  with  him.  The  storekeeper  looked 

43 


770  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

suspiciously  at  him,  and  asked  him  where  he  came  from. 
"None  of  yer  business,"  said  Mitchell.  "What  do  you  want 
with  ammunition  ?  "  "  To  load  my  gun.  What  d'  ye  s'pose  ; 
did  you  think  I  wanted  ter  make  bread  of  it?"  This  was 
enough  for  the  storekeeper.  With  a  triumphant  glance  at  the 
bystanders  he  said,  "  I  understand  what  you  free-soilers  want 
with  ammunition,  you  dogs ;  you  want  to  kill  us.  We  want  all 
we  have  ourselves."  All  this  to  the  poor  mountaineer,  who 
considered  every  white  man  his  "  brother,"  was  insupportable. 
Hastily  finishing  his  business,  he  gave  up  a  long  contemplated 
trip  to  the  eastern  cities,  and  started  back  to  New  Mexico.  A 
friend  fell  in  with  him  on  his  return  trip,  and  asked  where  he 
had  been. 

"After  being  away  for  twenty  years,  I  thought  I  would  like 
to  see  the  whites  once  more.  But  what  I  saw  in  Kansas  dis 
gusted  me  so  I  could  go  no  further.  They  do  nothing  but  get 
up  war-parties  against  each  other.  I  would  rather  be  in  an 
Indian  country  than  in  civilized  Kansas." 

We  have  already  hinted  at  a  fact  which,  though  its  origin 
was  thousands  of  miles  away,  in  Europe,  reached  in  its  effect 
the  lonely  mountains  of  New  Mexico,  and  robbed  Kit  Carson 
and  his  friends  of  their  occupation.  The  increasing  scarcity  and 
high  prices  of  the  beaver  fur  had  induced  the  hat  manufacturers 
of  Europe  to  look  for  a  substitute.  It  was  found  in  silk,  which, 
though  not  sa  durable,  presented  an  equally  beautiful  appear 
ance  in  the  "  plug "  hat.  Thus  the  market  for  beaver  fur  was 
seriously  affected.  The  prices  fell  with  the  demand,  and  the 
lonely  mountaineer,  like  Othello,  found  "his  occupation  gone." 

This  fact,  sad  enough  for  the  poor  trappers,  is  repeated  at 
every  step  in  the  progress  of  civilization.  Human  invention  is 
constantly  destroying  old  trades  and  occupations.  It  makes  a 
reaping  machine,  and  both  the  men.  who  use  and  the  men  who 
manufacture  the  "  cradle  "  are  thrown  out  of  employment.  It 
builds  a  railroad,  and  all  the  innkeepers,  who  had  their  clean  little 
hostelries  distributed  along  the  roads,  so  that,  after  each  day's 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  771 

journey,  the  tired  traveler  might  find  lodging  and  refreshment 
for  "  man  and  beast,"  find  their  inns  deserted  and  their  business 
gone.  It  invents  a  loom,  by  which,  with  one  boy  to  fill  the 
shuttles,  the  work  of  twenty  hand-weavers  is  done?  and  better 
done.  It  constructs  an  automatic  air  brake  for  the  express  train, 
and  the  brakesmen  are  discharged ;  the  engineer  does  their  work, 
and  does  it  better.  All  this  presents  a  great  problem.  In  order 
to  live,  men  must  have  work.  Every  year  an  increasing  multi 
tude  complain,  and  not  without  reason,  that  there  is  less  labor 
to  do  than  formerly,  and  that  theiy 'hands,  though  willing,  can 
find  no  task.  Idle  classes  are  dangerous.  They  are  brought 
into  the  world  without  asking  their  consent,  and  being  here  they 
demand,  and  rightly,  too,  that  they  shall  have  an  opportunity 
to  earn  money  and  procure  food.  All  this,  we  say,  presents  a 
great  and  serious  question.  So  it  was,  when  their  trade  was 
taken  away,  the  trappers  were  grieved  and  angry.  They  felt 
like  striking  back,  but  whom  should  they  hit?  Deep  in  their 
sullen  Jidfets  they  cursed  the  inventor  of  the  silk  hat.  He  was 
a  dog,  !g  devil,  a  brute  ! 

Kit  to  some  extent  shared  these  feelings,  but  he  cheerfully 
sought  another  occupation.  There  was  a  trading-post  called 
Bent's  Fort.  Here  he  was  offered  the  position  of  hunter  to  the 
fort.  It  was  the  duty  of  the  hunter  to  provide  the  daily  supply 
of  game,  summer  and  winter,  for  the  table  of  the  fort.  If  he 
had  bad  luck  in  his  hunting,  the  fellows  at  the  fort  were  sure  to  be 
cross.  If  his  provision  lacked  variety,  they  were  likely  to  speak 
of  it.  Carson's  great  skill  with  his  gun  caused  him  to  be  sought 
after  for  this  position.  He  accepted  it,  and  held  it  for  eight 
consecutive  years.  It  is  said  that,  during  all  these  years,  "  not 
a  single  word  of  disagreement  passed  between  him  and  his  em 
ployers."  This  fact  is  a  monument  to  Kit's  expertness  as  a 
hunter. 

If  any  thing  in  the  world  will  bring  on  a  fuss,  it  is  an  in 
sufficient  meal.  Kit's  boarders  were  unfailingly  provided  for. 
He  never  returned  empty  handed.  On  these  expeditions  Kit 


72 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


was  mounted  on  his  magnificent  horse,  "Apache."  They  knew 
and  loved  each  other.  Neither  horse  nor  rider  had  an  equal,  as 
hunters,  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  During  these  years  Kit's 
fame  spread  over  the  entire  West.  He  was  called  the  "  Monarch 


CARSON  AND  HIS  FAVORITE  HORSE,  "APACHE." 

of  the  Prairies,  the  "  Nestor  of  New  Mexico ; "  but  the  name  he 
was  most  pleased  with  was,  the  "  Hero  of  the  Rockies."  Among 
the  lodges  of  the  Arrapahoes,  Cheyennes,  and  Comanches,  Kit 
was  an  honored  guest  on  many  occasions.  One  reason  for  his 
remaining  so  quiet  for  eight  years  is  found  in  his  marriage  with 


CARSON  CONDUCTING  EMIGRANTS  ACROSS   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA  773 


.  THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  775 

an  Indian  girl,  of  whom  he  was  passionately  fond.  It  was  his 
misfortune  to  lose  his  dusky  bride  by  death,  when  they  had  only 
been  married  two  years.  To  an  infant  daughter,  however,  were 
transferred  the  entire  wealth  of  his  affections.  When  of  suita 
ble  age,  he  sent  her  to  St.  Louis,  to  receive  every  advantage 
which  education  could  bestow.  During  this  time  Carson  guided 
many  emigrants  across  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains,  patiently 
helping  their  toiling  ox-teams  along  the  rocky  roads. 

In  1842,  Carson  made  a  trip  to  the  States.  For  the  first 
time  in  sixteen  years,  he  looked  upon  the  home  of  his  childhood. 
But  Time  had  swept  his  unsparing  hand  over  the  place.  The 
old  log  cabin,  in  the  door  of  which  Kit's  mother  had  stood  six 
teen  years  before,  waving  her  hand  to  her  boy  as  he  rode  proudly 
away  that  sunny  morning,  was  now  a  crumbling  ruin.  No  light 
gleamed  from  its  cheerless  window.  No  loving  arms  were 
clasped  convulsively  around  the  wanderers  neck. 

The  father  and  mother  slept  the  sleep  that  knows  no  wak 
ing,  beneath  the  foot  of  a  lonely  forest  tree,  and  within  hearing 
of  the  ceaseless  murmur  of  the  Missouri  River.  Brothers  and 
sisters,  too,  were  gone ;  some  dead ;  some,  impelled  by  the 
same  restless  spirit  which  made  its  home  in  the  heart  of  Carson, 
were  scattered  abroad  in  the  wildernesses  of  the  West.  None  left ! 
Staggered  at  this  desolation",  Carson  sat  down  in  the  shadows 
of  a  double  darkness— the  darkness  of  the  night  without,  and 
of  the  night  within.  And  as  the  night-bird,  wandering  from  its 
mate,  uttered  its  lonely  cry  in  the  gloom  of  the  forest,  the 
strong  man,  sensible  of  his  utter  loneliness,  gave  way  to  the 
melancholy  of  the  hour,  and  wept  in  the  solitude  as  only  men 
can  weep. 

Shaking  off  these  sad  memories,  Kit  went  to  St.  Louis, 
where  he  spent  ten  days.  It  was  his  first  visit  to  a  great  city. 
The  roar  of  the  streets  and  bustle  of  excited  throngs  contrasted 
strangely  with  his  life  in  the  mountains.  But  he  was  no 
"  greeny,"  ready  to  bite  at  the  traps  of  the  city  sharpers.  He 
visited  the  places  of  interest,  investigated  the  methods  of  doing 


776  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

business,  and  availed  himself  of  his  opportunities  for  acquiring 
information. 

But  this  trip  had  one  momentous  result.  Carson  became 
acquainted  with  Lieutenant  John  C.  Fremont,  who  was  just  pro 
ceeding  on  his  first  journey  of  exploration.  Fremont  was 
greatly  in  need  of  an  experienced  pioneer  to  guide  his  party 
through  the  mountains,  as  well  as  give  them  the  benefit  of  his 
experience  as  to  means  of  subsistence  and  defense  against 
Indians.  Opportunely  meeting  Carson,  he  employed  him,  and 
thus  Kit  was  introduced  into  a  work  which  has  made  his 
name  a  household  word  throughout  the  republic.  The  object 
of  the  expedition  was  to  survey  the  South  Pass,  in  what  we 
know  as  Wyoming  Territory,  and  obtain  the  altitude  of  the 
highest  peaks.  Up  to  this  time,  America  was  profoundly 
ignorant  of  the  West. 

The  success  of  the  expedition  was  complete.  Carson  had 
proven  invaluable,  for  his  hunting  and  trapping  career  had  made 
him  familiar  with  the  entire  West,  from  Mexico  on  the  south 
to  British  America  on  the  north.  In  the  following  year,  Fre 
mont  made  his  second  exploring  expedition,  on  behalf  of  the 
United  States  Government.  As  before,  he  made  Carson  his 
right-hand  man.  His  object  this  time  was  to  push  his  investi 
gations  westward  from  the  Rockies  to  the  Sierra  Nevadas,  there 
connect  his  work  with  the  Pacific  coast  surveys,  which  had 
already  been  made,  and  thus  lay  a  foundation  for  a  survey  and 
map  of  the  entire  West. 

This  party  had  many  thrilling  adventures.  After  leaving 
the  Rockies,  and  traveling  many  days  across  the  barren  plains, 
their  provisions  began  to  give  out.  The  journey  was  longer, 
and  game  scarcer,  than  they  expected.  Before  them  lay  the 
snowy  Sierras  ;  to  attempt  to  cross  them  in  the  enfeebled  con 
dition  of  the  party  was  perilous  in  the  extreme.  Behind,  lay 
the  plains  they  had  just  traversed ;  to  retrace  their  steps  was  to 
starve  long  before  they  reached  a  point  where  supplies  could  be 
had.  So  it  was  that  the  only  record  of  Fremont's  second  expe- 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  777 

dition  came  near  being  the  horrible  hieroglyphics  of  bleaching 
skeletons,  which  are  so  often  left  by  explorers,  the  fearful  mean 
ing  of  which  is  so  readily  understood. 

To  attempt  a  crossing  of  the  mountains  was  urged  by  Carson 
as  the  only  alternative.  It  was  resolved  upon.  Snow-shoes  for 
the  entire  party  were  indispensable  to  traversing  the  whitened 
expanse,  into  the  depths  of  which  a  man  unshod  would  sink 
out  of  sight  forever.  Kit  swiftly  instructed  the  men  how  to 
make  them,  and  then,  with  an  advance  party,  pushed  on  to 
explore  the  route,  and  see  if  it  was  practicable  to  break  a  path 
for  the  animals.  The  distance  was  three  leagues.  Carson  said 
if  they  could  make  that,  the  green  valley  of  the  Sacramento, 
with  its  splendid  game  and  abounding  forage,  would  open  before 
the  weary  wanderers.  It  was  a  labor  of  fifteen  days  to  beat  and 
pack  the  snow  with  mallets  for  the  passage  of  the  mules.  But 
in  this  time,  most  of  the  animals  had  died.  In  the  extremity 
of  the  situation,  the  famished  beasts  ate  each  other's  tails  and 
tore  the  leather  from  the  pack  saddles  to  devour  it.  At  last, 
Sutter's  Fort  was  reached,  with  its  hospitable  welcome  and  its 
abundant  table.  Carson  cautioned  the  men  to  eat  sparingly,  but 
they  could  not  be  restrained.  Partly  from  the  terrible  strain 
which  they  had  endured,  partly  from  too  sudden  indulgence, 
two  of  the  party  lost  their  reason  and  became  raving  maniacs. 

On  the  return  trip,  just  at  they  were  going  to  camp  one 
evening,  a  man  and  boy  ran  up.  The  strangers  hastily  related 
that  they  belonged  to  a  Mexican  trading  party.  They,  with 
four  others,  had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  horses,  and  in  the 
absence  of  the  main  party,  these  six,  two  of  whom  were  women, 
were  attacked  by  Indians.  The  two  speakers,  Fuentes  and  the 
boy,  Pablo,  had  managed  to  get  away.  Anguish  riven,  the  one 
by  the  unknown  fate  of  his  wife,  the  other  by  that  of  his  father 
and  mother,  they  implored  the  help  of  the  explorers.  Only  two 
men  volunteered  their  assistance,  Kit  Carson  and  his  fellow 
mountaineer,  Godey.  The  lips  of  sorrow  never  appealed  in  vain 
to  the  brave  but  unselfish  Carson. 


778  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

There  were  thirty  Indians  in  the  attacking  party.  Carson 
and  Godey,  accompanied  by  Fuentes,  determined  to  attempt  a 
rescue  of  the  unfortunate  captives.  Quickly  striking  the  trail 
of  the  marauders,  they  commenced  their  pursuit.  At  the  end 
of  twenty  miles  the  horse  Fuentes  rode  broke  down.  To  pro 
cure  another  was  impossible.  Leaving  the  unfortunate  man 
behind,  Oarson  and  his  companion  dashed  on  their  errand  of 
kindness.  It  was  two  men  against  thirty.  But  fear  was  a 
stranger  to  the  bold  hearts.  All  day  they  rode.  Night  came 
on.  Still  they  rested  not.  Much  of  the  time  they  led  their 
horses,  and  followed  the  trail  in  the  darkness  by  feeling.  The 
tracks  grew  fresher.  A  few  hours  only  separated  them  from 
the  chase.  To  be  fresh  for  the  fray  they  dismounted,  and 
wrapped  in  their  blankets,  wet  with  heavy  dew,  they  tried  to 
sleep.  But  the  cold,  wet  atmosphere  rendered  sleep  impossible. 
No  fire  could  be  lighted.  At  early  dawn  they  perceived  a  neigh 
boring  ravine.  There  they  thought  safe  to  build  a  small  fire 
and  warm  themselves.  The  horses  were  again  mounted. 

The  sun  was  still  on  his  upward  journey  when  they  discov 
ered  their  enemies,  thirty  in  all,  engaged  in  their  usual  feast  of 
horse-flesh.  The  stolen  animals,  which  were  yet  alive,  were 
.picketed  at  a  short  distance.  The  two  mountaineers  determined 
to  crawl  in  among  the  horses,  and  then  be  guided  by  events. 
The  strange  figures  of  the  crawling  men  frightened  a  colt,  and 
stirred  up  a  commotion  in  the  herd.  The  Indians,  ever  quick 
to  read  the  signal  of  danger  in  the  conduct  of  their  animals, 
sprang  for  their  weapons.  As  the  savages  came  in  range  the 
trappers  fired.  Two  braves  bit  the  dust.  The  remainder,  aston 
ished  at  the  conduct  of  Carson  and  Godey,  suddenly  seemed  to 
believe  that  the  two  were  a  decoy,  supported  by  a  large  party, 
which  sought  by  stratagem  to  lure  them  into  giving  battle. 

As  Kit  had  foreseen,  the  Indians  at  once  fled,  leaving  their 
camp  to  the  victors.  Here  the  terrible  scene  presented  itself 
of  the  mangled  bodies  of  the  two  men,  pierced  with  a  hundred 
arrows.  The  women  were  found  a  little  further  off.  Their 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  781 

naked  bodies  each  had  a  sharpened  stake  driven  through  it  into 
the  ground.  With  sad  hearts  at  the  comparative  failure  of  their 
errand,  the  trappers  interred  the  bodies,  collected  the  horses, 
and  took  themselves  back  to  their  more  selfish  companions. 
The  property  was  restored  to  the  strangers ;  the  sad  story  of 
the  victims  told  to  the  wifeless  husband  and  the  lonely  boy. 
Bowed  down  with  grief,  yet  overflowing  with  gratitude,  they 
offered  all  their  horses  as  a  gift  to  Carson  and  Godey.  Hastily 
wiping  away  a  tear  with  his  shaggy  sleeve,  Kit  refused  to  accept 
any  thing,  and  instead,  thrust  a  small  sum  of  money  into  the 
boy's  hand.  Camp  was  broken.  The  men  mounted,  and  with  a 
farewell  to  the  strangers,  the  party  rode  away,  leaving  them 
alone  in  the  forest  in  the  shadow  of  their  mighty  grief. 

In  the  spring  of  1845  Kit,  being  out  of  employment,  resolved 
to  be  a  farmer.  He  determined  to  settle  down,  fell  trees,  grub 
stumps,  plow  the  glebe,  sow  seed,  and  gather  crops ;  to  become 
acquainted  with  corn  husking,  potato  hoeing,  and  butter  making ; 
to  learn  the  mystery  of  weaning  calves,  killing  hogs,  and  string 
ing  dried  pumpkin.  It  was  a  strange  calling,  that  of  the  patient 
farmer,  for  the  impetuous  Kit  to  select.  But  as  men  approach 
middle  life  they  become  more  and  more  conservative.  Carson 
and  a  mountaineer  named  Owens  purchased  an  eligible  tract  of 
land  on  which  to  make  a  farm.  Kit  furnished  the  money,  and 
laid  in  a  stock  of  wooden  plows,  Mexican  axes,  farm  carts,  and 
other  utensils.  With  a  company  of  hired  hands  he  built  tem 
porary  huts,  and  chopped  away  at  the  trees  in  fine  style.  True, 
they  were  a  little  green  at  the  business.  The  fences  were  rather 
clumsy,  the  fields  rather  stumpy.  The  farm-house,  which  Kit 
insisted  on  having  built,  was  very  large  and  barny,  while  the 
barn  was  small  and  badly  located.  Still  things  moved  on  fairly, 
and  Kit  might  some  day  have  made  a  farmer.  He  tried  to  per 
suade  himself  he  was  contented.  But  when  Fremont  sent  him 
word  of  a  third  expedition  Carson  just  took  twenty-four  hours 
to  sell  out  the  whole  place  for  a  third  of  what  it  had  cost,  get 
out  his  rifle,  saddle  his  horse,  and  start  to  join  Fremont. 


782  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  third  expedition  thus  joined  by  Carson  had  many  ad 
ventures.  One  night,  through  carelessness  in  keeping  watch, 
some  treacherous  Klamath  Indians  stole  in  the  camp  and  cleft 
the  skulls  of  three  of  the  sleepers  before  they  were  discovered. 
In  retaliation  Carson,  at  the  head  of  a  war  party,  burned  their 
village  and  killed  twenty  braves.  The  war  with  Mexico,  which 
was  declared  at  that  time,  served  to  complicate  the  fortunes  of 
the  explorers.  Carson  was  detailed  to  take  dispatches  to  Wash 
ington  City.  On  his  way  overland  he  met  General  Kearney, 
who  was  under  orders  to  proceed  with  his  command  to  the  scene 
of  hostilities  in  California.  Kearney  at  once  determined  to  for 
ward  the  dispatches  by  another  messenger,  and  have  Carson 
return  with  him  as  a  guide. 

Kit  gave  up  his  important  trip  to  the  capital  with  great 
secret  reluctance,  but  it  was  smothered  in  his  own  breast.  He 
saw  how  much  he  was  needed.  To  serve  others  was  always  his 
first  impulse ;  to  consider  himself,  his  last.  Without  a  murmur 
he  turned  back  to  the  wilderness.  It  was  not  long  before  Kear 
ney's  command  came  in  conflict  with  the  Mexican  forces.  His 
men,  being  nearly  all  on  foot,  suffered  severely.  In  the  first 
regular  battle  Carson  and  a  squad  of  twenty-five  of  the  mounted 
men  headed  a  charge  on  the  enemy.  Just  before  reaching  the 
foe  Kit's  horse  stumbled  and  fell,  throwing  its  rider  under  the 
feet  of  the  advancing  column,  which  dashed  on  right  over  him. 
This  accident,  though  fraught  with  great  danger,  in  all  prob 
ability  saved  his  life.  Every  man  in  the  front  squad  of  twenty- 
five  was  killed  except  Kit. 

The  Mexicans  continued  to  harass  Kearney,  at  last  manag 
ing  to  surround  him  on  a  small  hill,  on  which  Kearney  and  his 
command  were  virtually  besieged.  At  the  close  of  the  day's 
engagement,  which  found  them  in  this  perilous  situation,  a  coun 
cil  of  war  was  held.  Three  messengers  had  been  previously  dis 
patched  to  San  Diego  with  a  call  for  re-enforcements.  Each  of 
them  had  been  made  captive  by  the  Mexicans  before  reaching 
their  destination.  To  attempt  to  break  through  the  besieging 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  788 

lines  meant,  in  view  of  their  own  shattered  condition  and  the 
superior  numbers  of  the  enemy,  certain  destruction  of  the  com 
mand.  To  remain  where  they  were  for  more  than  a  short  time 
was  impossible.  The  situation  was  gloomy  in  the  extreme. 
After  all  had  expressed  their  opinions  and  no  plan  had  been 
suggested,  Carson  rose  and  said :  "  General,  I  will  volunteer  to 
undertake  to  creep  through  the  Mexican  lines,  push  on  to  San. 
Diego,  and  bring  you  succor." 

The  effect  of  the  simple  words  was  electric.  Lieutenant 
Beale,  a  brave  young  naval  officer,  offered  to  join  Carson. 
Kearney  gratefully  accepted  the  generous  offer.  Making  fare 
wells,  which  not  improbably  might  be  their  last,  Carson  and 
Beale  slipped  out  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  determined  to 
render  up  their  lives  rather  than  abandon  the  attempt.  Crawl 
ing  stealthily  on  hands  and  knees,  over  rocks  and  through 
thorny  underbrush,  stopping  every  few  moments  to  listen,  the 
brave  men  slowly  made  their  way  into  the  hostile  camp.  In 
spite  of  great  care,  their  heavy  shoes  would  sometimes  strike 
a  rock,  and  it  was  found  necessary  to  remove  them  and  thrust 
them  into  their  belts. 

The  Mexican  pickets  were  found  to  be  arranged  in  three 
rows,  the  sentinels  in  the  second  row  being  opposite  the  spaces 
in  the  first,  and  the  third  opposite,  the  spaces  in  the  second. 
Carson  at  once  decided  to  take  a  diagonal  course  through  the 
lines.  Even  this  path  took  them  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
watchful  sentinels.  The  gleam  of  the  bayonet  in  the  starlight 
shot  through  the  overhanging  branches  ;  yet,  with  Carson's  mar 
velous  skill,  the  fruit  of  a  lifetime  of  Indian  warfare,  they  reached 
the  third  line  of  pickets.  In  five  minutes  they  would  have  been 
safe.  Though  neither  spoke,  each  felt  the  increased  confidence 
of  the  other.  But,  hush !  Kit,  who  was  in  the  lead,  with  his 
quick  ear  caught  the  sound  of  crunching  twigs,  and  a  heavy  foot 
fall  approaching.  Pushing  Beale  with  his  foot,  as  a  signal  to  fol 
low  his  example,  Carson  threw  himself  perfectly  flat  on  the 
ground,  and  awaited  developments.  The  sounds  grew  louder. 


784  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Presently,  the  dim  figure  of  a  sentinel  on  horseback  revealed 
itself  to  the  piercing  eye  of  the  pioneer. 

On  came  the  Mexican.  The  two  Americans  lay  right  in  his 
path.  Beale  said  afterwards  :  "  I  looked  on  myself  as  a  corpse." 
When  i  within  six  feet  of  Carson,  the  Mexican  dismounted 
leisurely,  drew  out  a  cigaretto  and  a  bit  of  paper,  which,  by  the 
help  of  flint  and  steel,  he  proceeded  to  ignite.  The  blaze  of  the 
paper  distinctly  revealed  the  two  prostrate  forms.  In  relating 
the  story,  Carson,  who  never  exaggerated,  said :  "  I  heard  every 
heart-beat  of  Beale,  as  we  lay  there,  and  they  sounded  to  me 
like  the  strokes  of  a  maul."  But  the  Mexican,  when  the  paper 
blazed,  was  intent  on  lighting  his  cigaretto.  He  did  not  raise 
his  eyes.  The  yellow  flame  lit  up  his  sinister  countenance.  He 
leisurely  drew  three  or  four  puffs,  then,  with  a  quick  motion, 
flung  the  little  torch  on  the  ground,  where  it  flickered  for  a 
moment  and  went  out.  With  a  grunt  of  satisfaction,  he  re-ad 
justed  his  accouterments,  mounted  his  horse,  which,  with  finer 
instinct  than  his  master,  was  already  snorting  slightly  at  the 
figures  in  the  grass,  and  shortly  disappeared  among  the  trees. 

Not  till  the  Mexican  was  well  out  of  the  way,  did  Carson 
stir.  Then  he  commenced  his  onward  progress.  Feeling  that 
danger  was  now  behind  and  not  before  them,  they  hurried  for 
ward.  The  Mexican  camp  was  left  far  to  the  rear,  and  the  dis 
figured  heroes  rose  and  warmly  clasped  each  other's  hands  in  the 
moment  of  thankfulness  for  their  escape.  To  put  on  their  shoes 
was  their  first  thought.  But,  misery  of  miseries,  these  had  not 
been  thought  of  in  the  perilous  journey  of  two  miles  on  hands 
and  knees,  and  both  pairs  were  missing.  To  push  on  barefooted 
was  the  only  alternative.  Carson  had  no  guide  but  the  stars, 
no  map  but  his  knowledge  of  the  country.  Yet,  to  avoid  all 
beaten  trails,  along  which  the  enemy  swarmed,  and  to  select  a 
circuitous  route  to  San  Diego,  over  rocks  and  through  thickets, 
was  easy  work.  The  loss  of  their  shoes  was  a  terrible  misfortune. 
The  country  was  covered  with  a  thick  growth  of  the  prickly 
pear,  which,  at  every  step,  lacerated  their  bleeding  feet  with 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  785 

poison- tipped  needles.  All  night  and  all  the  next  day,  without 
food  or  rest,  sustained  only  by  mental  excitement  and  the  thought 
of  the  little  body  of  suffering  troops  which  was  folded  in  the 
fatal  coils  of  the  Mexican  serpent,  they  proceeded.  Another 
night  closed  in  around  them ;  yet  they  seemed  insensible  to 
fatigue  and  pain.  Toward  midnight,  the  outlines  of  San  Diego 
were  marked  upon  the  horizon.  Hurrying  on,  the  poor  fellows 
made  their  way  at  once  to  the  bed-room  of  Commodore  Stockton, 
and  told  him  the  situation  of  their  comrades.  Their  condition 
was  pitiable — clothing  in  rags,  feet  bleeding  terribly  and  swollen 
to  twice  their  natural  size,  mind  and  body  exhausted  to  the  last 
extremity.  Their  noble  mission  accomplished,  poor  Beale  fainted 
away,  only  to  wake  a  gibbering  maniac.  It  was  two  years 
before  reason  fully  re-asserted  her  sway.  Carson,  however, 
would  neither  eat  nor  sleep  until  the  relief  column  was  on  its 
way.  Then  he,  too,  hardened,  though  he  was,  by  exposure  and 
frontier  life,  broke  down,  and  for  a  month  was  prostrated  by  his 
fearful  exertion.  Kearney  and  his  command  were  saved. 

Carson  subsequently  made  two  trips  to  Washington  City, 
bearing  dispatches  to  the  government.  At  this  time,  he  was 
appointed  Indian  agent  for  New  Mexico,  as  a  reward  for  his 
services  in  the  war.  Not  being  identified  with  any  political 
party,  he  lacked  the  backing,  which,  far  more  than  merit  or 
service  to  his  country,  was  required  to  obtain  an  office.  The 
United  States  Senate  refused  to  confirm  the  appointment  of  the 
honest  and  heroic  pioneer. 

For  the  second  time  in  his  life  Kit  resolved  to  settle  down 
as  a  farmer.  This  time  he  bought  a  place  at  Rayado.  The 
location  was  beautiful;  the  valley  rich  in  soil  and  teeming  with 
noble  game.  Kit's  second  wife,  whom  he  had  married  some 
years  before,  was  a  highly  connected  Mexican  lady.  He  was 
attached  to  his  children  beyond  any  thing  else  on  earth.  He 
built  himself  a  comfortable  mansion ;  his  farm  was  managed  by 
experienced  hands.  In  spite  of  all  the  terrible  experiences,  which 
lay  like  packs  of  wolves  in  the  thicket  of  his  memory,  Carson  was. 


786  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  happy  man.  The  claims  upon  his  skill  as  an  Indian  fighter 
and  his  kindness  to  every  suffering  heart  continued  to  reach 
him  in  his  happy  valley.  Thence  he  was  frequently  called  to 
guide  United  States  troops,  or  attempt  a  rescue  of  some  unfor 
tunate  captive.  Perhaps  he  felt  a  more  tender  regret  at  leaving 
home  than  formerly ;  perhaps  the  effect  which  his  death  might 
have  on  the  happiness  of  his  little  family  circle  sometimes  oc 
curred  to  him,  but  he  was  as  quick  to  respond  as  ever. 

The  Apaches  at  this  time  almost  rendered  life  a  burden  in 
Northern  Mexico.  They  are  small  in  stature,  but  a  marvel  of 
symmetry  in  proportion,  perfect  in  health,  unequaled  in  athletic 
skill  and  performance.  The  Apache's  limbs  are  straight,  his 
muscles  hard  as  iron,  and  his  frame  as  elastic  as  rubber. 
Treachery  glistens  in  his  coal-black  eye,  and  the  instinct  of  the 
murderer  is  hidden  in  his  heart.  On  one  occasion  word  was 
brought  of  the  killing  of  a  Mr.  White,  and  the  capture  of  his 
wife  and  child.  A  detachment  of  troops  undertook  the  rescue. 
Carson  was  riding  some  distance  in  advance  when  he  sighted 
the  redskins  and  their  weeping  captive  on  the  opposite  bank  of 
a  stream.  Carson  yelled  for  the  men  to  advance  at  double 
quick,  for  he  saw  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  But  for  some  reason 
the  officer  in  command  was  jealous  of  Kit,  and  coolly  halted 
his  men.  During  that  short  halt  Carson  saw  the  tomahawk 
sink  into  the  skull  of  Mrs.  White  and  her  little  girl. 

Carson's  adventurous  disposition,  instead  of  courting  physi 
cal  danger,  began  to  manifest  itself  in  bold  speculations,  in 
which  he  had  great  success.  Nor  was  it  remarkable.  The 
same  disposition  of  genius,  placed  in  different  surroundings,  will 
manifest  itself  in  a  way  externally  different,  but  really  the 
same.  It  is  said  that  Jay  Gould,  with  his  vast  organizing 
power,  would  equal  Napoleon  if  placed  in  Napoleon's  situation. 

Kit's  fame  was  a  great  burden  to  him.  When  in  San  Fran 
cisco,  he  was  lionized,  passed  free  to  theaters,  on  railroads,  invited 
to  countless  entertainments.  This  was  embarrassing  to  the  quiet 
mountaineer.  Once  at  Fort  Laramie  a  fellow,  who  was  but  a 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  787 

specimen  from  a  large  class,  came  in,  eagerly  seeking  to  have 
the  great  Kit  Carson  pointed  out  to  him.  The  bystanders 
directed  him  to  Kit.  For  a  moment  the  stranger  looked  at 
the  small,  mild-eyed,  soft-mannered  man  before  him  in  dumb 
astonishment.  He  had  looked  for  a  large,  fierce  desperado  to 
correspond  with  the  great  feats  of  Kit  he  had  heard  of.  In  a 
moment  astonishment  gave  way  to  a  knowing  look,  as  he. said, 
"  See  here,  feller,  what 's  this  yer  givin'  me  ?  Yer  not  Kit  Car 
son.  Mind,  I  'm  no  greenhorn.  Howsurnever,  1 11  let  yer  off 
this  wunst,  ef  yer  '11  pint  out  the  genooine  Kit." 

Carson,  with  a  face  as  grave  as  a  parson,  and  an  air  of  mock 
timidity,  pointed  to  an  enormous  trader,  with  a  tremendous 
mustache,  dressed  in  a  hunting  shirt,  buckskin  leggins,  and  an 
enormous  slouch  hat.  This  personage  satisfied  the  stranger's 
notion.  Offering  a  "  chaw  of  terbac "  to  Kit,  who  quietly  de 
clined  it,  he  watched  the  big  trader  for  an  hour  with  the  great 
est  interest,  and  then  took  himself  off,  well  satisfied  that  he 
had  seen  the  "genooine  Kit."  He,  like  the  majority  of  people, 
looked  to  a  large  man  for  great  deeds,  one  of  the  greatest  delu 
sions  in  the  world,  and  one  which  is  utterly  refuted  by  history. 

The  popular  reverence  for  large  men  and  expansive  stom 
achs,  is  shown  by  the  United  States  Senate,  of  which  it  is  said 
only  a  half  dozen  men  fall  below  six  feet,  one  inch,  in  height, 
and  two  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  in  weight.  The  Chinese, 
we  once  heard  a  lecturer  say,  believe  that  the  brains  are  in  the 
abdomen,  and  estimate  a  man's  ability  by  his  waist  band.  When 
they  wish  to  call  a  man  an  idiot  they  say,  "Your  stomach  is 
no  larger  than  my  little  finger,"  while  their  rarest  compliment 
is,  "  Your  stomach  is  three  miles  around !"  It  is  possible  the 
lecturer  was  only  satirizing  the  popular  worship  of  stomachs, 
which  prevails  in  American  politics. 

One  evening,  as  Kit  returned  to  his  comfortable  farm  at 
Rayado,  leading  his  noble  horse,  which  was  laden  with  a  black- 
tailed  deer  and  some  wild  turkeys,  a  man  informed  hrm  of  a 
plot  for  robbery  and  murder,  to  prevent  which  Carson's  assist- 


788  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ance  was  wanted.  A  ruffian  named  Fox  had  been  engaged  at 
Taos  in  raising  a  band  of  desperadoes,  who  were  ostensibly  to 
serve  as  an  escort  through  the  Indian  country  of  two  English 
men,  Brevoort  and  Weatherhead,  who  were  supposed  to  carry 
a  large  amount  of  money  for  investment  in  stock.  The  real 
object  of  the  villains  was  to  murder  the  strangers  and  capture 
the  money.  By  some  means  a  hint  of  the  plot  was  dropped 
and  brought  to  Carson,  who  followed  up  the  clue,  satisfied  him 
self  of  its  truth,  and  became  convinced  that  the  crime  was  to 
be  consummated  in  a  lonely  canon  near  Cimaron  River.  One 
hour's  preparation  sufficed  to  place  him  at  the  head  of  thirty 
finely  mounted  dragoons.  Selecting  a  short  route,  known  only 
to  himself,  Carson  required  of  his  men  the  highest  possible  speed. 
It  was  the  only  hope,  and  was  successful.  The  chase  was  over 
taken.  Fox  was  arrested  before  he  could  strike  a  blow.  The 
astonished  Englishmen  were  informed  of  their  danger.  The 
gang  of  desperadoes  were  ordered  to  leave  camp.  Messrs.  Bre 
voort  and  Weatherhead  afterward  presented  Kit  with  a  superb 
pair  of  silver-mounted  revolvers  as  a  token  of  their  gratitude. 

The  following  summer  Kit  went  to  St.  Louis  on  a  trading 
trip.  On  his  return  he  brought  with  him  a  large  stock  of  goods. 
One  day,  as  the  train  wended  its  way  over  the  green  prairies, 
a  village  of  Cheyennes  was  discovered  by  the  party.  One  of 
their  braves  had  been  flogged  for  some  misdemeanor  by  a  party 
of  whites  a  few  days  before,  and  the  tribe  was  ablaze  with 
wrath.  Carson  knew  nothing  of  the  grievance,  but  quickly 
perceived  that  an  attack  was  contemplated.  Orders  were  given 
for  each  man  to  be  on  the  alert,  and  the  village  was  left  twenty 
miles  to  the  rear,  v^hen  small  parties  of  warriors  of  twos  and 
threes  began  to  come  in  sight.  These  had  on  their  war-paint 
and  feathers.  As  they  approached  Carson  spoke  to  them  in  a 
friendly  way,  and  to  show  he  was  not  afraid,  went  into  camp, 
and  invited  the  Indians  to  come  in  and  have  a  smoke. 

No  sooner  had  the  pipe  gone  round  than  the  Indians  began 
to  talk  vigorously  among  themselves.  It  must  not  be  forgotten 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  789 

that  several  years  before,  while  hunter  at  Bent's  fort,  Carson 
had  been  a  great  friend  of  the  Cheyennes.  His  appearance  had 
greatly  changed,  and  he  was  not  recognized.  Every  word  of 
the  visitors  was  understood  by  him.  Supposing  they  were  not 
understood,  they  were  coolly  perfecting  a  plot  to  massacre  the 
whites.  Suddenly  Kit  stepped  forward,  told  them  his  name, 
how  he  had  once  been  a  friend,  and  had  to  his  knowledge  never 
wronged  their  tribe.  Now  they  rewarded  him  with  a  plan  to 
kill  him.  He  closed  by  ordering  them  to  leave  the  camp  or 
they  would  be  shot.  Nonplused  at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken, 
with  a  threat  of  return,  they  hastily  left. 

The  train  moved  on.  Each  man  walked  beside  his  mule,  a 
whip  in  one  hand  and  a  rifle  in  the  other.  Carson  plainly  told 
the  men  they  were  in  great  peril,  but  inspired  them  with  his 
own  courage.  He  scanned  the  horizon  incessantly,  but  saw  noth 
ing  more  dangerous  than  a  hungry  wolf  or  a  wandering  antelope. 
Evening  came.  The  wagons  were  arranged  in  a  circle,  inside  of 
which  the  mules  were  tethered.  Grass  was  cut  and  fed  to  them. 
The  men  gathered  some  driftwood,  and  built  their  camp  fire  also 
in  the  guarded  ring.  Carson  felt  that  the  responsibility  of  sav 
ing  his  men  rested  with  him.  In  the  party  was  one  of  those 
Mexican  runners,  a  young  man  who,  with  a  message  in  his 
head,  can  run  with  little  fatigue  seventy  miles  in  a  day. 
Calling  the  boy  outside  the  wagons,  when  the  supper  was  over, 
Carson  pointed  out  the  direction  of  Rayado,  and  told  him  he 
must  leave  many  miles  behind  him  by  sunrise.  The  lad  bent 
his  dark  intelligent  face  upon  his  master,  and  resolved  to  make 
every  exertion  to  fulfill  his  command.  Obtaining  a  few  rations 
of  provisions,  which  he  bound  about  his  waist,  he  received  from 
Kit  full  instructions  as  to  the  dangerous  places  in  the  journey. 
He  was  to  proceed  with  the  utmost  speed  to  Rayado,  and  start 
out  a  relief  party.  Making  his  bow,  he  started  swiftly  on  his 
errand.  Kit  watched  the  agile  figure,  as  it  sped  over  the 
prairie  in  the  dim  moonlight,  until  it  was  but  a  speck  on  the 
horizon. 

44 


790  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  camp  was  not  disturbed  that  night.  The  following 
morning  five  Indians  appeared.  Carson  called  to  them,  told  them 
he  had  the  night  before  dispatched  a  fleet  messenger  to  Rayado, 
and  that  if  his  party  was  massacred,  his  friends,  the  soldiers, 
would  surely  inflict  swift  and  terrible  vengeance  on  the  Chey- 
ennes.  The  Indians  said  they  would  look  for  his  moccasin 
tracks  and  see  if  the  story  was  true.  Carson  saw  that  this  was 
a  turning  point  in  his  favor.  An  hour  later  the  whole  village  of 
Cheyennes  passed  in  sight,  evidently  making  for  safety  as  fast 
as  possible.  They  had  found  the  moccasin  tracks,  and  saw  the 
chase  had  been  gone  too  long  to  be  overtaken.  The  train  pro 
ceeded  without  interruption,  until  they  met  a  body  of  troops, 
who  had  started  at  once  on  the  arrival  of  the  Mexican  runner. 
Under  this  strong  escort  the  remainder  of  the  trip  was  happily 
completed. 

In  1853,  Kit  was  again  appointed  and  this  time  confirmed  as 
Indian  agent,  a  position  he  graced  and  honored  as  no  other 
living  American  would  have  done.  His  great  knowledge  of 
Indian  character  was  a  splendid  equipment.  Sometimes  around 
their  council  fires  he  distributed  the  bounty  of  the  government, 
and  instructed  them,  in  the  primary  lessons  of  civilization. 
Sometimes  it  was  at  his  own  home  that  he  received  them  as 
friends,  and  earnestly  advised  them  to  let  whisky  alone.  Again 
at  the  head  of  a  column  of  United  States  troops  he  filled  the 
faithless  hearts  of  the  Apaches  with  a  fear  of  justice  if  not  a 
love  of  kindness.  In  one  hand  he  offered  the  olive  branch;  in 
the  other,  he  held  his  loaded  rifle. 

Kit  at  last  permanently  quieted  the  Utahs  and  Apaches. 
Thenceforward  he  devoted  himself  to  the  works  of  peace  among 
his  Indian  proteges.  The  fierce  passion  for  war  was  supplanted 
in  their  breasts  by  a  love  of  comfort  and  domestic  life;  the 
tomahawk  and  the  scalping  knife  grew  rusty  and  forgotten,  while 
the  sinewy  hand  which  had  wielded  them  learned  to  grasp  the 
plow  and  the  sickle.  Kit,  too,  felt  that  in  the  remainder  of  his 
life  war  and  adventure  would  have  no  place.  He  was  mistaken. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  791 

The  flames  of  the  civil  war  were  already  filling  the  heavens 
with  the  red  light  of  doom.  Carson  was  destined  to  serve  his 
€ountry  as  a  soldier.  A  lover  of  the  Union,  he  was  made  Colonel 
of  the  First  New  Mexico  Volunteers.  The  Indians,  always 
ready  to  seize  a  pretext  for  making  war  on  the  government, 
cast  in  their  lot  with  the  Confederacy.  Far  away  on  the  plains 
and  in  the  mountains  of  New  Mexico,  where  the  roar  of  Gettys 
burg  was  silent,  and  the  story  of  bloody  Chickamauga  was 
unknown,  there  took  place  terrible  struggles  between  combatants 
who  knew  not  the  ideas  for  which  they  fought.  The  red  man 
fought  to  be  fighting  the  whites.  The  brave  New  Mexican  fought 
the  Indian  much  as  he  had  fought  him  all  his  life.  The  shock 
of  the  civil  war  hurled  these  ancient  foes  upon  the  frontier  of 
civilization  against  each  other.  But  while  the  ideas  were  not 
present  with  them  as  they  were  among  the  ranks  on  many  a  his 
toric  field  of  conflict,  the  battle  was  none  the  less  bloody  and 
the  suffering  none  the  less  severe. 

The  campaigns  conducted  by  Carson  were  splendidly  man 
aged.  On  the  sixth  day  of  January,  1864,  he  started  out  with 
a  force  of  four  hundred  men,  only  twenty  of  whom  were  mounted, 
upon  the  famous  expedition  which  forever  crushed  the  power 
of  the  Navajoes.  By  maneuvering  with  a  skill  of  which  Carson 
alone  was  capable  in  an  Indian  war,  he  succeeded  in  entrapping 
the  bulk  of  the  Navajoe  Nation  in  the  Canon  de  Chelly,  one  of 
the  largest  on  the  globe.  It  is  forty  miles  long,  with  perpen 
dicular  walls  of  rock,  fifteen  hundred  feet  high.  Carson  quickly 
divided  his  command,  sending  one  detachment  to  enter  at  the 
east  end,  while  he  planted  himself  at  the  mouth.  Far  down  in 
the  gloomy  depths,  the  narrow  bit  of  sky  looking  like  a  blue 
ribbon  above  them,  the  column  cautiously  picked  its  way. 
Scattering  bands  of  Indians,  who  saw  the  doom  of  their  com 
panions,  posted  themselves  along  the  rocks  and  crags  to  annoy 
the  troops,  but  their  efforts  were  ineffectual.  Sometimes  a  volley 
was  fired  from  below,  at  the  pigmy  warriors  on  the  dizzy  height, 
but  generally  they  reserved  themselves  for  the  larger  game 


792  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

which  was  in  the  trap.  On  the  second  day,  Carson  attacked 
the  whole  force  of  Indians  as  they  attempted  in  vain  to  break 
out  of  the  deadly  chasm.  They  were  terribly  punished,  and 
were  at  last  forced  to  surrender. 

By  this  splendid  strategy,  between  five  and  ten  thousand 
Indians  surrendered  to  Carson,  the  largest  capture  ever  made  in 
Indian  warfare ;  and  this  was  achieved  by  four  hundred  soldiers, 
with  scarcely  the  loss  of  a  man.  The  entire  war  presents  no  finer 
piece  of  generalship.  The  majority  of  the  captives  were  placed 
on  a  reservation  in  Arkansas,  but  were  subsequently  permitted 
to  return  to  their  old  hunting-grounds,  where  they  are  living  in 
happiness  and  peace. 

In  the  official  report  to  the  War  Department,  is  the  following : 

"You  have,  doubtless,  seen  the  last  of  the  Navajoe  war,  a 
war  that  has  continued,  with  but  few  intermissions,  for  the  last 
one  hundred  and  eighty  years,  and  which  during  that  time  has 
been  marked  by  every  shade  of  atrocity,  brutality,  and  ferocity 
which  can  be  imagined.  I  beg  to  congratulate  you  on  the  pros 
pect  that  this  formidable  band  of  robbers  and  murderers  has 
been  at  last  made  to  succumb.  To  Colonel  Kit  Carson,  in  com 
mand  of  the  expedition,  whose  courage  and  perseverance  excited 
all  to  great  energy  and  inspired  great  resolution,  the  credit  is 
mainly  due." 

For  his  gallant  services,  "  Colonel  Kit  Carson "  was  pro 
moted  to  the  rank  of  brigadier-general. 

After  the  close  of  the  war,  Kit,  as  we  will  continue  to  call 
him,  found  himself  in  failing  health,  the  result  of  an  accident 
in  1860.  He  was  descending  a  steep  mountain,  leading  his 
horse,  when  the  animal  slipped  and  fell  on  him,  inflicting  internal 
injury.  In  spite  of  sickness,  he  labored  unceasingly  to  promote 
the  welfare  of  the  Indians.  On  the  27th  of  April,  1868,  his 
wife  died  suddenly,  leaving  seven  children.  This  threw  him 
into  the  deepest  dejection.  In  a  few  days,  he  found  himself  too 
weak  to  ride  horseback,  his  lifelong  pleasure.  Then  he  took 
short  walks  around  his  yard.  Then  it  was  noticed  that  even 


THE  HISTORY  OF  KIT  CARSON.  793 

this  was  too  much  for  him;  he  no  longer  left  his  room.  Silent 
and  thoughtful,  the  hero  would  sit  in  his  arm-chair  all  day  long. 
Sometimes,  a  smile  would  break  over  his  face ;  again,  the  look 
would  be  one  of  intense  concentration.  Perhaps  he  was,  in  fancy, 
living  over  his  life  as  a  trapper,  as  hunter  to  Bent's  Fort,  or  as 
guide  for  Fremont  and  rescuer  of  Kearney's  command. 

One  morning,  Kit  Carson  was  too  weak  to  leave  his  bed. 
The  next,  the  23d  of  May,  1868,  he  refused  all  nourishment. 
Towards  evening,  a  film  coated  the  kindly  eye,  and  the  hand 
responded  more  and  more  feebly  to  the  will.  It  was  evening. 
The  great  sun  had  thrown  its  latest  radiance  upon  the  lowly 
couch,  and  was  sinking  behind  the  lonely  Rockies,  over  which 
he  had  so  often  wandered.  Suddenly  he  called  out  in  a  clear 
voice,  "  Doctor,  Compadre,  adios  !"  It  was  the  end. 

One  of  Nature's  noblemen  had  passed  away. 


'94  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


OHAPTEE  XXYI. 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA. 

[DYING  hatred  of  the  pale-face  was  the  leading 
trait  in  the  character  of  many  of  the  Indian 
tribes  of  the  West.  From  time  to-  time,  in  the 
preceding  pages  of  this  book,  we  have  caught 
glimpses  of  the  great  and  terrible  Dakota,  or 
Sioux  Indians,  as  they  are  now  called.  We 
have  seen  them  sending  bands  of  fierce  warriors 
from  their  distant  home  beyond  the  Mississippi, 
being  the  territory  now  covered  by  Minnesota,  northern  Iowa, 
and  Dakota,  to  take  part  in  the  great  wars  of  the  East.  These 
bands  of  braves  traveled  thousands  of  miles  to  become  partici 
pants  in  the  Old  French  War,  in  the  conspiracy  of  Pontiac,  and 
all  the  other  border  struggles.  Such  was  their  appetite  for 
war,  that  no  obstacles  of  distance  or  danger  could  keep  the 
Dakotas  from  taking  part. 

As  the  line  of  border  settlements  moved  westward,  they  at 
last  reached  the  home  of  these  people.  Various  treaties  were 
made  between  them  and  the  United  States.  By  the  terms  of 
these  treaties,  the  tribes  or  bands  occupying  what  is  now  Min 
nesota  and  northern  Iowa  relinquished  all  their  territory,  in 
consideration  of  heavy  annuities,  which  the  United  States  agreed 
to  pay,  with  the  exception  of  a  reserved  strip  of  territory  ex 
tending  along  either  side  of  the  Minnesota  River  for  the  distance 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  The  tribes  whose  homes  were 
on  this  reservation  were  four  in  number.  Two  of  these  had  their 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  795 

head-quarters  in  .the  western  end  of  the  reservation,  and  were 
known  as  the  Upper  Sioux.  The  others,  being  on  the  east  and 
center  of  the  reservation,  were  known  as  the  Lower  Sioux.  Of 
these  latter,  the  principal  chief  was  Little  Crow. 

The  government  established  two  posts  or  agencies  on  the 
reservation.  The  upper  agency,  where  the  Indian  agent  resided, 
was  at  Yellow  Medicine.  The  lower  post  was  located  at  a 
point  ten  miles  below  the  mouth  of  the  Red  Wood  River.  At 
these  places  were  located  the  government  warehouses,  the 
dwellings  of  the  agent  and  employes  of  the  government,  of  which 
latter  the  number  was  about  two  hundred  at  the  time  of  the 
tragedy  hereinafter  related,  as  well  as  various  machine  shops  and 
traders'  cabins.  At  these  points,  the  Indians  assembled  annually 
to  receive  their  money  from  the  government,  the  most  important 
event  of  the  year.  Twelve  miles  from  the  lower  agency,  on  the 
north  side  of  the  Minnesota,  the  government  erected  a  military 
post  known  as  Fort  Ridgley. 

In  1858,  the  simple  provisions  of  the  former  treaties  were 
modified  by  an  elaborate  scheme  for  the  civilization  of  the  Indians. 
They  surrendered  all  their  land  on  the  north  side  of  the  Minne 
sota,  retaining  only  the  strip  some  ten  miles  wide  on  the  south 
side  of  the  river.  The  "  civilization  scheme  "  was,  in  brief,  the 
reservation  of  a  portion  of  the  annuity  each  year,  to  constitute 
a  civilization  fund.  This  money  was  to  be  expended  in  behalf 
of  such  of  the  Indians  as  would  give  up  their  tribal  relations 
and  adopt  the  habits  and  modes  of  the  white  man.  To  every 
head  of  a  family  who  was  willing  to  do  this  was  to  be  set  off 
a  farm  of  eighty  acres,  on  which  the  government  was  to  erect 
the  necessary  buildings,  and  to  furnish  the  usual  supply  of  farm 
ing  implements  and  live  stock.  In  addition  to  this,  they 
were  to  be  paid  by  the  day  for  their  labor  on  their  own  farms, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  to  retain  the  crop  which  they  raised.  In 
1862,  one  hundred  and  sixty  farms  of  this  description  had  been 
opened  and  occupied.  The  dwellings  were  neat  and  comfortable, 
many  of  them  being  built  of  brick.  The  large  majority  of 


796  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

these  Indian  farmers  belonged  to  the  lower  bands,  and  Little 
Crow  himself  was  one  of  the  number. 

This  move  on  the  part  of.  the  government  opened  a  wide 
schism  in  the  tribes.  The  "blanket  Indians,"  of  whom  there 
were  over  five  thousand  on  the  reservation,  felt  deeply  injured 
at  the  detention  of  a  part  of  their  annuity  fund,  and -lost  no 
opportunity  to  worry  the  life  out  of  the  handful  of  "farmer 
Indians."  These  savages,  whenever  the  chase  failed  them,  would 
resort  to  the  homes  of  the  farmer  Indians,  pitch  their  tepees 
around  the  house  of  some  relative,  and  at  once  proceed  to  eat 
him  out  of  house  and  home.  When  provision  was  exhausted, 
the  farmer  would  be  compelled  to  resort  to  the  chase.  In  his 
absence  the  blanket  Indians  would  destroy  whatever  displeased 
their  fancy,  and  then  move  on  to  some  other  spot.  The  terri 
tory  around  the  reservation  and  bordering  upon  it,  in  the  various 
counties  of  Henville,  Brown,  Blue  Earth,  Kandiyohi,  Meeker, 
McLeod,  Sibley,  Cottonwood,  and  Watonwan,  was  populated  at 
the  time  of  the  tragedy  by  forty  thousand  people. 

On  the  15th  of  August,  1862,  Little  Crow  seemed  to  be 
pleased  and  happy.  He  was  at  work  digging  a  cellar  for  the 
new  brick  house,  which  the  government  had  agreed  to  build  for 
him.  On  that  day  Major  Galbraith  went  down  to  see  him. 
The  teamsters  were  busily  engaged  in  hauling  brick,  and  the 
government  carpenters  were  making  the  window  and  door 
frames.  Major  Galbraith  talked  at  length  with  Little  Crow, 
and  the  latter  appeared  to  be  at  peace  with  all  the  world  and 
gratified  beyond  measure  at  his  new  house.  The  agent  had 
gone  down  there  with  some  trifling  apprehension.  In  the  first 
place  there  had  for  several  years  been  some  dissatisfaction 
among  the  Indians  at  the  non-payment  of  a  considerable  part 
of  the  money  which  the  government  had  promised  them.  There 
had  perhaps  been  some  embezzlements.  Besides  this,  large  sums 
of  money  had  been  paid  to  the  traders  for  goods  which  they 
claimed  the  Indians  had  bought,  instead  of  to  the  "  chiefs  in 
open  council,"  as  the  treaty  required. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  797 

Another  ancient  source  of  irritation  among  the  Sioux  grew 
out  of  a  massacre  in  1857,  at  Spirit  Lake.  For  some  years 
prior  to  that  time  a  desperate  Indian  named  Inkpaduta  had 
resided  on  the  reservation.  Although  he  was  not  a  chief  he 
drew  money  on  behalf  of  several  persons  who  were  afraid  to 
disown  him  lest  in  his  anger  he  would  kill  them.  A  handful 
of  desperadoes  always  accompanied  him.  One  day  some  settlers, 
who  had  suffered  from  the  depredations  of  this  band  of  ruffians, 
took  away  their  guns.  By  some  means  Inkpaduta  and  his  fol 
lowers,  who  numbered  about  fifteen,  procured  other  weapons, 
and  went  to  a  house  on  Spirit  Lake  with  a  demand  for  food. 
Those  who  came  in  first  with  this  request  were  supplied.  A 
second  lot  of  applicants  were  informed  by  the  people  of  the 
house  that  they  could  spare  nothing  more.  The  Indians  in 
stantly  murdered  every  member  of  the  family;  they  then  passed 
from  house  to  house  along  the  lake  massacring  the  people  until 
no  less  than  forty-seven  persons  had  been  killed,  before  the  set 
tlers  rallied  and  drove  them  out  of  the  country. 

The  government  at  once  demanded  that  the  Sioux  give  up 
the  murderers.  Accordingly  Little  Crow  took  a  band  of  one 
hundred  warriors,  and  started  out  to  hunt  the  rascals.  Three 
were  found  and  killed,  but  at  the  end  of  thirteen  days  Little 
Crow  returned  and  told  the  agent  that  he  had  done  enough,  and 
would  not  hunt  the  murderers  any  longer.  Unfortunately  the 
government  submitted,  and  the  Indians  never  forgot  the  fact. 
Little  Crow  reasoned  that  if  the  United  States  was  too  weak  to 
insist  on  the  punishment  of  a  few  Indians,  who  had  murdered 
three  times  their  own  number  of  white  people,  it  would  be  too 
weak  to  punish  the  whole  tribe  of  Sioux  should  it  revolt.  The 
innate  hostility  of  the  Indians  toward  the  aggressions  of  the 
white  man  and  the  bad  feeling  about  the  payment  of  annuities 
was  re-enforced  by  the  feud  between  the  "  Scalp  Locks "  and 
"  Blanket  Indians  "  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  "  Cut-hair  "  and 
"  Pantaloon  Indians "  on  the  other.  The  former  party  was 
intensely  jealous  of  the  favor  with  which  the  government 


798  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

regarded  the  other.  Little  Crow,  though  living  in  a  house,  was 
the  leader  of  the  "  Blanket  Indians."  The  promise  of  a  new 
house  had  been  made  in  order  to.  fasten  his  rather  doubtful 
alliance  with  the  farmer  Indians. 

In  addition  to  these  general  causes  for  apprehension,  there 
were  other  and  more  local  ones.  The  civil  war,  it  will  be  re 
membered,  was  in  the  second  year  of  its  course.  The  resources 
of  the  government  were  drained  to  the  utmost  to  raise  and  equip 
armies.  As  a  consequence,  the  annuity  money  had  not  been 
sent.  Th^  crops  of  the  previous  year  had  failed.  The  Indians 
asked  every  day  at  the  agency  for  their  money,  and  when  told 
it  had  not  come,  went  away  with  angry  words  and  threatening 
gestures,  alleging  that  they,  with  their  women  and  children, 
were  starving. 

On  the  14th  of  July,  1862,  five  thousand  angry  Sioux  gath 
ered  around  the  agency  at  Yellow  Medicine,  demanding  food. 
The  government  employes  temporized  with  them  as  well  as 
possible,  but  the  provision  of  the  post  was  itself  almost  exhaus 
ted.  On  the  4th  of  August  five  hundred  and  fifty  warriors 
broke  into  the  parade  ground  of  the  post  in  a  boisterous  man 
ner,  surrounded  the  warehouse,  chopped  down  the  door,  and 
commenced  carrying  out  the  provision.  The  troops  of  the  fort 
had  by  this  time  rallied,  and  drove  the  Indians  out  of  the  ware 
house.  The  trouble  was  patched  up,  but  the  Indians  should 
have  been  punished.  This  was  impossible,  because  there  was 
no  power  to  punish  them.  The  military  posts  of  the  frontier 
had  been  almost  emptied  of  their  soldiers,  who  were  needed  to 
take  part  in  the  great  war  which  was  then  absorbing  the  thought 
and  energy  of  the  whole  American  people. 

On  the  same  day  a  hundred  armed  warriors  appeared  in  front 
of  Fort  Ridgley,  which  was  garrisoned  by  only  thirty  men,  and 
asked  permission  to  have  a  dance  in  the  parade  ground.  This 
request  was  refused,  and  the  Indians  contented  themselves  with 
a  pow-wow  outside  of  the  fort.  No  one  apprehended  any  dan 
ger  except  a  sergeant  named  Jones,  who  insisted  on  taking  his 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  .        799 

stand  beside  a  loaded  howitzer  pointed  toward  the  Indians.  He 
not  only  stood  there  during  the  afternoon,  but  remained  all  night 
by  the  gun,  ready  to  fire  at  the  first  alarm.  Two  weeks  later 
it  was  ascertained  that  the  Indians  had  intended  to  massacre  the 
garrison,  seize  the  arms,  break  open  the  magazine,  and  supply 
themselves  and  their  friends  with  ammunition.  This  accom 
plished,  the  whole  body  of  Sioux  were  to  inaugurate  a  war  to 
drive  the  white  men  out  of  the  Minnesota  valley.  They  were 
foiled  in.  the  attempt,  which  could  easily  have  succeeded,  as  the 
gates  of  the  fort  were  always  open,  by  Sergeant  Jones  pointing 
a  loaded  cannon  at  them.  For  the  time  being  this  roused  no 
particular  suspicion. 

On  the  morning  of  the  15th  of  August,  a  drunken  Indian 
was  heard  to  boast  that  the  Sioux  were  going  to  kill  off  all  the 
white  men.  All  these  things  had  so  disturbed  Major  Galbraith 
that  he  had  resolved,  as  we  have  seen,  to  interview  Little  Crow. 
He  was  relieved  to  find  the  sage  Indian  busy  with  the  innocent 
work  of  digging,  and  apparently  in  perfect  good  humor.  The 
agent  rode  away  with  all  suspicion  driven  from  his  mind.  On 
Sunday,  August  17th,  Little  Crow  attended  church,  and  gave 
the  sermon  the  most  devout  attention.  That  evening  he  held 
a  council  up  in  the  country.  The  proceedings  of  the  council 
are  not  known,  except  by  inference  from  the  terrible  events 
which  happened  on  the  morrow. 

Meanwhile  a  preliminary  tragedy  was  taking  place  at  the 
town  of  Acton,  thirty-five  miles  from  the  lower  agency,  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Red  Wood.  Mr.  Robinson  Jones  kept  a  country 
inn  at  this  place.  At  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a  half  dozen 
Indians  appeared  at  the  door,  demanding  food.  As  the  kitchen 
of  the  little  inn  was  entirely  under  the  charge  of  Mrs.  Jones, 
who  was  at  the  house  of  her  son-in-law,  Howard  Baker,  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  away,  Jones  told  them  he  could  not  get  them 
any  thing  to  eat.  Seeing  that  they  were  angry,  Jones  took  his 
son  and  daughter,  and  went  over  to  Baker's  himself,  being  fol 
lowed  by  the  Indians.  A  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Baker  were  at 


800  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  house.  The  Indians  proposed  target-shooting,  to  which  the 
three  men  acceded.  The  Indians  fired  first,  and  commenced  re 
loading  their  guns.  When  the  guns  of  the  white  men  were 
emptied,  the  savages  suddenly  shot  them  down.  Two  or  three 
other  members  of  the  family  were  killed,  when  the  savages, 
seizing  a  span  of  horses,  drove  hastily  away. 

The  council  presided  over  by  Little  Crow  on  Sunday  evening, 
August  17,  1862,  acted  with  swiftness  and  secrecy.  During 
the  night  the  entire  force  of  warriors  of  the  lower  tribes 
armed  and  painted  for  battle,  and  distributed  themselves 
among  the  white  settlements,  sprinkled  through  a  region  forty 
miles  in  extent.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  Indians  were  silently 
posted  at  the  lower  agency.  At  early  dawn,  Monday  morning, 
Mr.  Prescott,  an  interpreter,  coming  out  of  the  door  of  his 
dwelling  to  get  some  fire-wood,  was  surprised  to  see  the  street 
swarming  with  painted  savages.  At  this  moment,  Little  Crow 
passed  the  house.  Prescott,  asking  the  trouble,  was  answered, 
"  Go  in  your  house  and  stay  there."  John  Lamb,  a  government 
teamster,  was  just  coming  out  of  his  stable,  when  he  was  fired 
upon  and  killed.  This  was  the  first  shot.  The  Indians  at  once 
seized  the  horses,  and  were  appropriating  them  when  Mr.  Wag 
ner  came  running  out  to  stop  it.  Little  Crow  ordered  him  to 
be  shot,  which  was  instantly  done. 

The  tide  of  death  at  once  overflowed  through  the  settlement 
in  all  directions.  Hearing  the  shots,  the  people  came  running 
out  to  ascertain  the  trouble,  only  to  fall  victims  to  the  ruthless 
murderers.  Six  men  were  in  the  store  of  William  Forbes. 
They  started  out  of  the  door,  and  were  instantly  fired  upon. 
Four  were  killed  outright.  Mr.  Spencer  ran  back  into  the 
store,  and  started  upstairs.  Concealing  himself  under  a  bed,  he 
could  hear  the  rioters  breaking  open  the  cases  of  goods  and 
carrying  them  out.  Presently  the  Indians  commenced  to  talk 
of  burning  the  house.  Spencer  quickly  took  the  bed-cord,  fast 
ened  one  end  to  a  post,  and  carried  the  other  to  a  window, 
which  he  raised.  At  this  moment,  the  Indians  burst  into  his 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  801 

room,  seized  him,  and  took  him  down  stairs.  His  captors  hap 
pened  to  be  friends,  and  whispered  that  they  would  save  him. 
They  took  Spencer  out  through  the  yelling  mob,  and  carried 
him  to  their  lodge,  four  miles  away,  where  he  remained  in 
safety. 

Similar  attacks  were  made  on  the  other  stores  and  houses, 
and  numbers  of  people  killed.  Meanwhile,  the  alarm  had  spread 
through  the  entire  settlement,  and  the  panic-stricken  people 
were  flying  in  all  directions.  Mr.  Hinman  and  his  family  suc 
ceeded  in  reaching  the  ferry,  and  crossed  the  Minnesota  River 
in  that  way.  Mr.  J.  C.  Dickinson  hurriedly  harnessed  his 
horses  to  a  wagon,  placed  his  family  in  it,  and  galloped  toward 
a  deep  ford,  which  he  made  in  safety.  Dr.  Humphrey,  with  a 
sick  wife  and  four  children,  also  crossed  the  river  on  their  way 
to  Fort  Eidgley.  After  proceeding  four  miles,  Mrs.  Humphrey 
became  too  ill  to  proceed  further.  Near  by  stood  the  house  of 
a  settler  whose  family  had  fled  to  the  fort,  leaving  doors  and 
windows  wide.  Here  the  refugees  stopped.  The  sick  woman 
was  laid  upon  a  bed.  The  son  hurried  to  a  spring  in  a  neigh 
boring  ravine  to  get  some  water  for  his  mother,  leaving  his 
father  to  keep  guard  at  the  house.  While  at  the  spring,  the 
terrified  boy  heard  a  war-whoop,  followed  by  a  series  of  shots, 
at  the  house.  The  boy  fled  to  the  fort.  An  hour  later,  some 
soldiers  passing  by  found  the  corpse  of  the  boy's  father  lying  in 
the  front  yard,  with  the  brains  beat  out  between  two  rocks.  The 
house  itself  was  a  heap  of  smoking  embers,  in  the  midst  of  which 
were  discovered  the  blackened  remains  of  Mrs.  Humphrey  and 
her  two  little  children. 

At  the  time  of  the  first  alarm,  John  Nairn,  the  head  carpen 
ter,  had  seized  his  wife  and  children,  and  hurried  through  the 
prairie  in  the  direction  of  the  fort.  He  was  joined  in  his  flight 
by  Mr.  Hunter  and  his  young  wife,  to  whom  he  had  been  mar 
ried  only  a  month.  Nairn  and  his  wife  reached  the  fort  in 
safety,  but  Hunter,  who  was  lame,  walked  with  great  difficulty. 
Meeting  an  Indian  friend,  the  latter  offered  to  procure  him  a 


802  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

conveyance  if  he  and  his  wife  would  come  to  a  neighboring 
Indian  village.  The  fugitives  accepted  his  invitation,  but  failing 
to  procure  the  vehicle,  and  fearing  to  remain,  they  took  to  the 
woods,  where  they  passed  the  night,  In  the  morning  they  con 
tinued  their  painful  journey  toward  the  fort,  when  they  were 
met  by  an  Indian,  who  shot  Hunter  dead,  and  carried  his  hor 
ror-stricken  young  wife  into  captivity.  Without  lingering  over 
the  fearful  details,  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the  day  which 
began  with  massacre  proceeded  with  destruction  and  plunder. 
The  stores,  dwellings,  and  government  warehouses  were,  toward 
evening,  fired,  and  the  blackened  stone  walls .  alone  remained  to 
mark  the  spot  of  the  lower  agency. 

The  storm  broke  over  the  whole  country  at  once.  Ten  miles 
above  the  lower  agency,  on  Red  Wood  River,  resided  J.  B. 
Reynolds,  a  teacher.  At  half  past  six  in  the  morning  he  was 
aroused  by  a  messenger,  urging  him  to  fly  for  his  life.  The 
whole  household  was  at  once  alarmed.  A  Mr.  Davis,  stopping 
with  them,  and  three  girls  got  into  the  wagon  of  a  trader,  which 
happened  to  be  passing  at  that  moment.  In  the  direction  of  the 
agency  they  saw  a  dense  cloud  of  smoke.  Convinced  now  that 
the  town  was  in  flames  and  that  they  themselves  were  in  great 
danger,  they  only  drove  the  faster.  Suddenly  they  came  upon 
fifty  Indians  with  wagons  full  of  provisions,  goods,  and  furni 
ture  from  the  village.  The  savages  were  all  perfectly  naked, 
painted  in  the  most  hideous  manner,  and,  worse  yet,  drunk. 
Davis  and  the  trader  were  killed  outright.  Mary  Anderson  was 
also  shot.  The  other  two  girls  were  placed  in  separate  wagons, 
the  one  containing  Mary  Schwandt  driving  toward  an  Indian 
village.  The  captive  was  brutally  treated  and  subjected  to 
nameless  outrages.  The  other  two  captive  girls,  one  of  them 
wounded,  were  brought  in  during  the  night.  Two  days  later 
the  wounded  girl  died.  The  others  remained  in  captivity  until 
rescued  by  the  United  States  troops. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  party  had  left  in  the  trader's 
wagon,  Mr.  Reynolds  and  his  wife  threw  some  things  into  a 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  803 

buggy  and  drove  toward  the  agency.  So  quickly  did  the  out 
break  follow  the  alarm  that  a  dozen  squaws  were  swarming 
through  the  house,  putting  dishes,  clothes,  and  provisions  into 
sacks  which  they  brought  with  them  before  Mr.  Reynolds  and 
his  wife  had  driven  out  of  the  yard.  Still  ignorant  of  the 
trouble,  they  drove  to  a  hill  overlooking  the  lower  agency, 
where  they  saw  the  work  of  ruin  going  on.  Hurrying  on 
toward  the  fort,  they  saw  several  parties  of  squaws  and  Indians, 
who  were  at  a  distance,  and  found  that  they  were  followed.  To 
help  on  matters,  the  horse  gave  out,  and  the  party  had  to  take 
across  the  country.  Their  course  lay  along  the  shore  of  the 
Minnesota  River.  Mr.  Reynolds  swam  the  river  to  procure 
help  from  the  fort.  His  wife,  with  two  children,  whom  they 
had  picked  up  on  the  way,  walked  along  the  sandy  shore,  "  cov 
ering,"  as  Mrs.  Reynolds  says,  "the  children's  tracks  with  my 
own,  and  turning  my  toes  in  as  much  like  a  squaw  as  possible." 
Assistance  reached  the  ingenious  woman  and  her  husband,  and 
they  reached  the  fort,  having  lost  all  the  property  they  had 
in  the  world,  but  nevertheless  thankful  to  have  escaped  with 
their  lives. 

Little  Crow's  conspiracy  was  widely  extended.  Early  on 
the  morning  of  the  18th  of  August  the  settlers  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Minnesota  River  were  angry  and  frightened  to  dis 
cover  large  bodies  of  Indians  on  that  side  of  the  river,  engaged 
in  capturing  horses.  Half  an  hour  later  four  naked  Indians 
came  to  the  house  of  Jonathan  Earl  and  demanded  his  gun. 
This  demand  was  refused  and  the  savages  went  away,  taking 
with  them  several  horses.  The  alarm  had  spread  to  other 
houses,  and  in  a  short  time  twenty-eight  of  the  neighbors 
assembled  at  Earl's  house.  Provisions  were  hastily  gotten  to 
gether,  and  the  company,  some  of  them  but  half  dressed,  hur 
ried  away  toward  Fort  Ridgley. 

They  had  proceeded  but  a  little  distance  when  they  were 
overtaken  by  Indians,  who  deliberately  unhitched  the  horses 
from  the  wagons,  and  then  began  to  fire  upon  the  party.  Sev- 


804  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

eral  men  were  killed,  and  about  ten  women  and  girls  taken  cap 
tive.  Earl  himself,  after  seeing  his  wife  and  two  daughters 
carried  off  and  his  son  killed,  started  across  the  country  to 
escape  by  running.  Little  by  little  he  removed  all  his  clothing 
but  his  shirt,  and  finally  distanced  his  pursuers.  During  the 
flight  he  had  been  fired  at  thirty  times,  but  was  as  yet  unhurt. 
After  a  flight  of  forty-eight  hours,  in  which  the  prairie-grass 
had  cut  off  neariy^all  the  flesh  from  his  feet,  Earl  reached  Ce 
dar  City.  Colonel  Sibley's  expedition  subsequently  rescued 
Mrs.  Earl  and  her  daughters,  who  were  captives  in  the  wigwam 
of  Little  Crow  himself. 

Three  of  the  party  to  which  Earl  had  belonged  were  killed 
by  the  Indians,  by  being  burnt  to  death  under  a  blazing  mat 
tress.  Mrs.  Carruthers  was  among  the  captives  who,  together 
with  Mrs.  Earl,  were  taken  to  Little  Crow's  village.  In  the 
story  of  her  sufferings,  she  says  that  Little  Crow's  house  was  a 
two-story  frame  one,  plastered  and  furnished  with  common  fur 
niture,  cooking  stove,  chairs,  and  table.  There  were  dishes, 
with  knives  and  forks.  All  of  these  things  had  been  furnished 
by  the  government.  The  house  was  stuffed  full  with  provision 
and  plunder  from  the  government  warehouses. 

After  a  few  days  of  captivity,  Mrs.  Carruthers  and  her 
children  managed  to  escape.  They  traveled  through  the  country 
until  they  reached  a  farm-house,  from  which  the  people  had 
fled.  Crawling  into  the  cellar,  they  remained  there  two  days, 
living  on  a  few  raw  potatoes.  During  this  time,  the  house  was 
frequently  visited  by  Indians.  Mrs.  Carruthers  made  her  way 
to  the  river,  where  she  found  a  crazy  boat,  in  which  she  made 
the  attempt  to  cross.  The  feat  was  accomplished,  though  not 
without  danger.  Near  her  landing-place,  she  was  sickened  at 
the  sight  of  the  corpses  of  no  less  than  six  settlers.  She  strug 
gled  on  through  the  country,  carrying  a  child  in  either  arm,  and 
tortured  almost  to  death  by  swarms  of  mosquitoes  on  her  face, 
from  which  she  was  unable  to  protect  herself.  She  found  some 
little  food  in  nearly  every  deserted  house  which  she  passed. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  805 

By  the  time  she  reached  the  fort,  the  little  clothing  which  the 
Indians  had  left  her  was  almost  entirely  gone.  Although  fam 
ished  and  in  danger,  the  poor  woman,  ashamed  of  her  plight, 
hid  herself  in  some  bushes  until  a  man  passed  that  way,  from 
whom  she  procured  a  blanket  for  a  covering. 

Two  miles  above  Mr.  Earl's  house,  forty  persons,  frightened 
by  the  unusual  occurrences,  assembled  at  the  house  of  John 
Meyer,  soon  after  sunrise  pn  the  morning  of  the  18th.  While 
the  company  was  discussing  the  situation  in  an  agitated  manner, 
fifty  Indians  were  discovered  approaching.  All  but  Meyer's 
family  fled  from  the  house,  taking  to  the  grass  and  bushes. 
Peter  Bjorkman  passed  out  at  the  back  door,  and  plunging  into 
a  slough,  concealed  himself  in  the  mire.  He  remained  here  in 
the  morass,  with  nothing  but  his  head  above  the  water,  and 
concealing  that  member  by  some  weeds,  until  dark,  when  he 
made  his  escape.  The  Indians  instantly  attacked  Meyer's  fam 
ily,  butchering  the  women  and  children.  With  a  facility  which 
seems  peculiar  to  the  men  of  that  region,  and  speaks  poorly  for 
their  chivalry,  Meyer  managed  to  escape  to  Fort  Ridgley. 
While  the  savages  occupied  themselves  'with  plundering  the 
deserted  houses,  thirty  terrified  people  sought  refuge  in  the 
dwelling  of  Mr.  Sitzton,  near  Bjorkman' s.  In  an  hour  or  two, 
Bjorkman,  who  was  out  in  the  swamp,  witnessed  the  massacre 
of  nearly  the  entire  company.  One  woman  and  her  child  alone 
escaped,  to  be  taken  into  captivity. 

After  night,  Bjorkman  ventured  out  of  his  hiding-place, 
made  his  way  to  his'  house,  bound  up  a  bundle  of  food  and 
clothing,  and  commenced  his  flight  toward  Fort  Ridgley.  He 
passed  the  houses  of  Meyer  and  Sitzton.  By  the  starlight,  he 
could  see  that  the  doors  and  windows  were  open.  Two  forms 
seemed  to  be  lying  on  the  doorstep  of  the  Sitzton  house.  The 
man  gave  a  terrified  glance  toward  the  place ;  he  felt,  rather 
than  saw,  that  the  structure,  a  few  hours  before  a  happy  home, 
had  become  a  charnel-house,  filled  with  from  twenty  to  thirty 
corpses.  Hurrying  past  the  place  of  death,  he  shortly  overtook 

45 


806  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  woman  and  two  children.  It  was  Mrs.  Lateau.  Her  husband 
had  been  killed.  Misery  loves  company.  Bjorkman  took  one 
of  the  children  in  his  arms.  The  wretched  people  then  hurried 
across  the  country  as  fast  as  possible.  The  woman  was  nearly 
naked.  The  rough  grass  of  the  prairie  cut  her  feet  and  limbs 
like  so  many  swords.  The  man  took  off  his  shirt,  and  Mrs. 
Lateau,  tearing  it  into  strips,  bound  it  about  her  bleeding  feet 
and  limbs.  After  nameless  sufferings,  the  poor  people  reached 
the  fort. 

A  mile  and  a  half  from  the  Earl  house,  lived  Patrick  Hay- 
den.  On  the  morning  of  this,  the  day  of  doom,  he  had  started 
across  the  river  to  the  house  of  J.  B.  Reynolds,  whose  fate  has 
already  been  mentioned.  On  his  way,  Hayden  met  a  man  who 
shouted  to  him,  "  For  God's  sake,  get  your  family  and  fly. 
The  Indians  are  going  to  kill  us  all."  Hayden,  alarmed  but 
mystified,  hurried  back  to  his  house,  got  his  family,  and  took 
them  off  to  a  neighbor's  by  the  name  of  Eune.  The  latter  was 
also  making  preparations  for  flight. 

Sending  his  family  on  with  the  Eunes,  Hayden,  ignorant  of 
the  meaning  of  the  fearful  panic,  started  back  to  his  house  to 
protect  his  property.  He  was  never  seen  again.  Eune's  party 
hurried  on.  Here  and  there  they  found  the  corpse  of  some 
settler  who  had  been  overtaken  in  his  flight.  From  time  to  time 
they  could  see  men  on  horseback,  hurrying  across  the  country 
like  themselves.  On  the  following  day  Mrs.  Hayden  and  the 
rest  reached  the  fort,  only  to  learn  that  all  their  neighbors,  less 
fortunate  than  they,  had  been  killed  before  they  got  away. 

The  terror  was  later  in  reaching  those  who  lived  at  points 
more  distant  from  the  fort.  Twenty-seven  miles  from  Fort 
Ridgley,  in  Eenville  county,  a  Mr.  Kreiger  had,  only  a  few 
weeks  before,  settled  on  a  homestead  claim.  On  the  18th  of 
August  he  and  his  cousin  were  away  fishing.  At  sunset  two 
men  came  running  toward  the  house,  and  told  Mrs.  Kreiger 
that,  six  miles  below,  they  had  discovered  the  corpses  of  a 
woman  and  two  children.  Scattered  near  the  bodies  were  pieces 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  807 

of  broken  furniture,  and  fragments  of  a  feather  bed.  Horror 
stricken,  they  had  hurried  to  a  settlement  about  a  mile  away, 
to  report  what  they  had  seen. 

The  first  house  they  entered  without  knocking,  their  excite 
ment  over  the  murder  being  so  great.  On  the  floor  of  the  room 
the  men  saw  the  dead  bodies  of  five  people.  Almost  paralyzed 
with  horror,  the  men  ran  on  to  the  next  house.  A  man  was 
lying  dead  on  the  doorstep,  and  the  whole  place  had  been  plun 
dered.  Still  hoping  for  an  explanation  of  the  appalling  mys- 
stery,  which  grew  blacker  and  more  terrible  at  every  step, 
the  men  passed  on  from  house  to  house,  in  search  of  some 
living  being. 

Every  dwelling  was  the  scene  of  desolation  and  death.  One 
woman  was  found  dead  with  her  hands  still  in  the  flour,  where 
she  had  been  making  bread.  Two  men  had  been  killed  at  a 
grindstone,  where  they  had  been  sharpening  a  scythe.  Another 
was  lying  in  his  barn,  with  some  hay  in  his  arms,  which  he  had 
been  carrying  to  his  horses  when  the  murderers  overtook  him. 
An  old  lady,  seventy  years  of  age,  was  found  weltering  in  her 
blood  in  the  chimney-corner,  where  she  was  accustomed  to  sit. 
She  still  held  in  her  hands  the  needles  and  half-finished  sock 
which  she  had  been  knitting.  Two  boys  who  had  been  playing 
marbles  were  found  lying  on  the  ground,  with  their  heads  split 
open.  The  marbles  still  stood  in  the  ring  where  the  little  fel 
lows  had  been  at  play.  The  entire  settlement  had  been  given 
over  to  butchery. 

Such  was  the  report  which  the  men,  hoarse  with  excitement, 
and  breathless  with  running,  brought  to  Mrs.  Kreiger  in  her 
lonely  house.  While  the  men  ran  on  to  alarm  other  settlers, 
Mrs.  Kreiger  hurried  up  the  creek  to  where  her  husband  was 
fishing,  and  told  him  what  had  happened.  Within  an  hour  thir 
teen  families  were  gathered  at  the  house.  It  was  now  dark. 
Suddenly  some  one  remembered  that  no  word  had  been  sent  to^ 
Mr.  Schwandt,  who  lived  on  a  small  stream  called  Sacred  Heart, 
in  Renville  county.  Messengers  at  once  started  away  on  a  gal- 


808  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

lop  to  alarm  him  of  his  danger.  Arriving  within  sight  of  the 
house,  they  discovered  chairs  and  broken  furniture  scattered 
through  the  yard.  John  Waltz,  a  son-in-law  of  Mr.  Schwandt, 
was  lying  dead  in  the  door,  pierced  by  three  bullets.  Mr. 
Schwandt  himself  was  found  on  the  ground,  with  a  hammer  and 
nails  in  his  hand.  He  seemed  to  have  been  shingling  the  roof 
of  the  house,  and,  being  shot,  had  rolled  off  to  the  ground, 
dead.  Two  oxen  were  in  the  house,  eating  flour  out  of  the 
barrel.  The  messengers  did  not, 'at  the  time,  wait  to  see  any 
more.  It  was  afterward  learned  that  they  had  seen  but  a  small 
part  of  the  work  of  blood.  The  Indians  had  attacked  the  house 
in  the  forenoon.  After  killing  Waltz  and  Schwandt,  they  had 
taken  the  latter's  daughter,  who  was  enciente,  cut  open  the  body, 
removed  the  child,  and  nailed  it  to  a  tree.  Mrs.  Schwandt  had 
been  dragged  a  few  yards,  and  her  head  chopped  off.  Mr.  Fross, 
a  farm-hand,  was  also  killed. 

Of  the  whole  family  August,  a  boy  of  thirteen,  alone  escaped. 
After  seeing  his  sister's  child  nailed  to  the  tree,  he  was  beaten 
and  left  for  dead.  When  the  Indians  went  off  he  revived  and 
started  to  a  house  of  Mr.  Suche,  four  miles  distant.  This  house 
was  in  the  midst  of  a  small  settlement.  Here,  instead  of  find 
ing  help,  the  boy  discovered  every  house  to  be  tenanted  only 
by  the  dead.  More  than  thirty  corpses  lay  in  the  place.  The 
only  living  being  was  a  child  three  years  old.  The  boy  carried 
the  child  three  or  four  miles,  but  was  so  exhausted  that  he  left 
it  in  a  deserted  house,  and  hurried  on  by  himself  to  Fort  Ridg- 
ley,  which  he  reached  at  the  end  of  four  days.  The  child  was 
afterward  found  in  the  hands  of  the  Indians.  It  was  brought 
to  Fort  Ridgley,  but  shortly  died. 

The  messengers  returned  to  the  party  at  Kreiger's  and  re 
lated  what  they  had  seen.  The  thirteen  families  with  eleven 
teams  at  once  set  out  toward  the  fort  and  traveled  all  night. 
In  the  morning  eight  Indians  came  up  with  the  party  and  pre 
tended  to  be  friendly.  They  said  that  the  murders  had  been 
committed  by  the  Ojibwas,  and  that  the  Sioux  were  going  to 


ALICE  THOMPSON'S   APPEAL  FOR   MERCY. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  811 

punish  the  murderers.  They  earnestly  advised  the  settlers  to 
return  home  as  the  road  to  the  fort  was  filled  with  Ojibwas. 

The  settlers  unfortunately  believed  the  Indians  to  be  friendly 
and  took  their  advice.  This  was  the  first  explanation  of  the 
mysterious  massacre.  Nothing  seemed  to  them  so  improbable 
as  that  their  neighbors,  the  Sioux,  were  the  murderers.  The 
teams  were  turned  homeward,  accompanied  by  the  Indians,  who 
offered  to  act  as  a  guard.  Suspicious  circumstances  roused  the 
apprehensions  of  some  of  the  party,  but  as  the  settlers  had 
placed  their  guns  in  the  wagons  they  dared  not  take  them  out 
lest  the  Indians  should  fire.  When  nearly  to  their  homes  the 
manner  of  the  Indians  suddenly  changed.  They  were  re- 
enforced  by  other  savages,  and  the  whole  party  demanded  that 
the  settlers  give  up  their  money.  No  sooner  was  this  done 
than  the  Indians  fired  upon  the  party,  killing  all  but  three. of 
the  eleven  white  men.  The  savages  shot  the  three  remaining 
men,  and  then,  with  their  clubbed  guns  commenced  beating  out 
the  brains  of  the  women  and  children.  Two  of  Mrs.  Kreiger's 
boys,  aged  seven  and  eight  years,  managed  to  escape  through 
the  prairie  grass.  On  their  journey  to  the  fort  the  little  fellows 
discovered  a  team  driving  in  the  direction  they  were  going. 
They  were  about  to  run  out  and  ask  for  help,  when  a  party  of 
Indians  sprang  out  toward  the  wagon  and  killed  all  its  occupants 
right  before  the  children's  eyes.  The  little  fellows  journeyed 
on,  passing  many  dead,  and  at  last  reached  the  fort. 

When  the  Indians  left  the  scene  of  slaughter  one  of  their 
number,  a  }roung  brave,  took  with  him  a  little  girl  as  a  captive. 
His  heart  may  have  been  kinder  than  the  rest.  The  child's 
name  was  Alice  Thompson.  Her  plea  for  mercy  saved  her  life. 
Of  the  children  left  on  the  ground,  apparently  dead,  many  were 
not  so.  Three  girls,  the  oldest  being  thirteen  years  old,  hid 
themselves  in  the  grass  until  the  Indians  went  off.  They  then 
came  out  from  their  hiding-place,  and  found  one  woman  and 
about  ten  children  yet  living.  The  oldest  girl,  Mrs.  Kreiger's 
daughter,  being  thirteen  years  old,  developed  remarkable  nerve 


812  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

and  self-possession.  She  succeeded  in  removing  these  children 
and  the  woman  to  her  house,  a  mile  away,  and  there  ministered 
to  the  wants  of  the  wounded  as  best  she  could. 

The  night  was  passed  amid  crying  and  moaning  from  all  the 
occupants  of  the  house.  In  the  morning  the  girl  of  thirteen 
years  decided  that  it  was  unsafe  to  remain,  and  taking  such  of 
the  little  company  as  were  able  to  walk,  took  to  the  woods.. 
The  girl  at  once  returned  to  the  scene  of  the  massacre  to  hunt 
for  her  mother,  but  was  frightened  away  by  the  sight  of  Indians. 
A  little  later  she  saw  the  house  which,  she  with  her  five  com 
panions,  of  whom  the  woman,  Mrs.  Zable,  was  one,  had  recently 
left,  surrounded  by  Indians  and  in  flames.  The  seven  little  chil 
dren  which  had  been  left  there  were  burned  alive  in  the  house. 
The  little  party  of  fugitives  hid  in  the  woods  until  dark,  and 
then  started  toward  Fort  Ridgley.  They  obtained  some  food 
on  the  way  in  the  deserted  houses  which  they  passed.  It 
consisted  almost  wholly  of  corn  eaten  raw.  The  oldest  girl, 
with  remarkable  tenacity,  had  insisted  on  carrying  her  baby 
brother.  At  the  end  of  three  days  her  strength  was  so  ex 
hausted  that  the  little  fellow  had  to  be  left  behind.  His  fate 
was  never  known. 

The  party  journeyed  on  for  eleven  days.  One  of  the  chil 
dren  fell  down  from  exhaustion  and  hunger.  The  others  refused 
to  leave  her.  Some  one  found  the  rind  of  a  watermelon,  which 
was  given  to  the  child.  She  revived,  and,  by  the  help  of  the 
others,  proceeded  until  they  came  within  sight  of  Fort  Ridgley. 
The  children  were  terribly  frightened  at  the  sight  of  the  fort, 
thinking  it  to  be  an  Indian  camp.  When  some  soldiers  ap 
proached  they  turned  to  fly,  but  the  poor  little  flutterers  were 
soon  caught.  When  they  arrived  at  the  fort,  the  children  pre 
sented  a  pitiable  sight.  Some  were  wounded  by  hatchet  cuts ; 
others  had  been  beaten  by  the  butts  of  guns  ;  others,  still  bore 
bleeding  gunshot  wounds.  Their  little  bodies  were  almost  desti 
tute  of  clothing,  and  were  cut  and  bleeding  from  head  to  foot 
from  the  prairie  grass  through  which  they  had  passed. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  813 

Returning  once  more  in  our  story  to  the  scene  of  the  attack 
on  the  wagon  party,  Mrs.  Kreiger  remained  on  the  ground  almost 
unconscious  until  midnight  of  Tuesday,  August  19th.  At  that 
time  two  Indians  came  up,  and  she  felt  a  sharp  pointed  knife 
passed  swiftly  from  her  throat  downward,  laying  open  her  in 
testines.  Her  clothing  was  then  removed,  and  she  was  seized 
by  the  hair  and  dragged  some  distance.  Still  conscious,  she  saw 
the  savages  mutilating  the  dead  bodies  of  her  friends  in  a  man 
ner  too  horrible  to  be  reproduced  on  this  page.  Finally,  Mrs. 
Kreiger  succeeded  in  crawling  from  the  scene  of  the  massacre 
to  a  creek.  Refreshed  by  the  water,  she  managed  to  drag  her 
self  two  or  three  miles  further.  Unable  to  proceed,  she  remained 
on  the  ground  for  three  days,  drinking  water  from  a  slough  and 
eating  grass.  Again  she  recovered  sufficient  strength  to  crawl. 
Not  infrequently  she  passed  corpses  of  the  settlers,  and  was 
frightened,  in  a  dull  weary  way,  by  the  sight  of  Indians. 

Space  forbids  the  details  of  her  terrible  journey.  She  had 
given  up  all  hope  of  life,  when  a  party  of  troops  sent  out  to 
bury  the  murdered  settlers  passed  her  way,  and  put  her  into  a 
wagon.  Two  hours  later  the  troops  were  attacked  by  Indians, 
and  the  poor  woman  again  trembled  between  life  and  death. 
All  of  the  wagons  were  turned  upside  down  as  a  rude  barricade, 
except  the  one  in  which  she  lay.  The  battle  raged  all  day  and 
all  night.  The  wagon  in  which  was  Mrs.  Kreiger  was  the  best 
mark  afforded  the  savages.  The  wagon  was  literally  shot  to 
pieces.  The  cover  was  riddled  with  bullets,  and  the  spokes 
were  shot  out  of  the  wheels.  The  cup  in  which  she  attempted 
to  take  her  medicine  was  dashed  from  her  mouth  by  a  rifle-ball. 
She  received  five  wounds  during  the  battle. 

On  the  following  morning  re-enforcements  arrived.  The  In 
dians  were  driven  off  by  shells,  or  " rotten  cannon-balls"  as  they 
called  them.  The  battle  being  ended,  the  soldiers  went  up  to 
the  wagon,  and  were  perfectly  astounded  to  find  Mrs.  Kreiger 
yet  alive.  The  wagon  itself  was  a  mass  of  splinters,  and  by 
actual  count  the  blanket  which  covered  the  poor  woman  con- 


814  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

tained  over  two  hundred  bullet  holes.  This  statement  was 
sworn  to  by  Mrs.  Kreiger  before  the  United  States  commission 
ers.  When  she  reached  the  fort  she  was  gladdened  to  find  that 
six  of  her  eight  children,  inheriting  their  mother's  pluck,  had 
managed  to  escape. 

Three  months  before  the  massacre,  John  Boelter  and  his 
wife  Justina,  with  their  little  family,  settled  on  a  homestead 
claim  on  Beaver  Creek,  in  Renville  county.  They  went  to  make 
a  home  from  the  ground  up.  While  the  husband  and  hired 
hands  felled  the  trees  with  ringing  ax,  and  built  the  rude  cabin, 
the  brave  young  wife  prepared  the  meals  over  a  camp-fire. 
When  the  house  was  done,  and  the  little  family  ensconced  in 
their  new  home,  their  simple  hearts  were  thrilled  with  joy  and 
thankfulness. 

The  morning  of  the  18th  of  August,  1862,  found  the  family 
situated  in  a  comfortable  log  cabin.  The  yard  was  surrounded 
by  a  fence  and  filled  with  a  garden,  both  of  vegetables  and 
flowers.  The  family  were  at  breakfast.  The  delightful  morn 
ing  air  which  belongs  to  Minnesota  even  in  the  hottest  months, 
poured  in  through  the  open  door  and  windows.  The  sun  was 
just  high  enough  to  have  driven  away  the  chilliness  left  by  the 
shadows  of  the  night.  Suddenly  the  little  family  at  the  break 
fast  table  were  startled  by  the  entrance  of  a  squaw7  with  an  ax 
in  her  hand.  She  looked  around  hurriedly,  and  ran  back  to  the 
road,  rejoining  some  other  squaws.  Surprised  at  the  circum 
stance,  Mrs.  Boelter  stepped  to  the  door  to  watch  their  move 
ments,  and  was  alarmed  to  hear  a  succession  of  shots  in  the 
direction  of  Mr.  Reef's  house.  Informing  her  husband  of  the 
fact,  he  at  once  went  out  to  look  after  his  cattle,  which  he  sus 
pected  were  in  danger.  As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  three  squaws 
and  four  Indians  entered  the  house,  remained  a  few  moments, 
and  left.  A  moment  later  Mrs.  Boelter's  brother-in-law  came 
running  in,  and  exclaimed,  "  The  report  is  that  the  Indians  are 
killing  the  whites."  He  then  ran  on  to  a  field  where  his  father 
had  been  at  work,  to  warn  him,  but,  failing  to  find  him,  started 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  817 

back.  It  was  afterward  ascertained  that  the  old  man  had  already 
been  killed. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Boelter,  in  her  fright,  took  a  pan  of  bread 
from  the  stove,  and,  carefully  wrapping  the  pan  up  in  a  cloth, 
laid  it  away  in  the  cupboard,  and  placing  the  loaves  of  bread  in 
the  dish-pan  proceeded  to  wash  them.  Without  observing  her 
blunder  she  hung  the  bread  up  on  a  nail  and  seizing  her  three 
children,  started  down  the  road.  She  shortly  met  her  brother- 
in-law,  and  begged  him  to  go  call  her  husband.  At  that  moment 
a  scream  reached  their  ears.  Looking  toward  Reef's  house, 
they  discovered  Indians  in  the  act  of  killing  Mrs.  Reef  and  her 
children,  who  were  out  in  the  yard.  The  piercing  screams  con 
tinued  for  a  moment  and  then  all  was  still.  Her  brother-in-law 
snatched  up  the  baby,  and  started  off  on  a  run.  Such  was  his 
haste  that  Mrs.  Boelter  and  her  two  children  were  unable  to 
keep  up,  and  soon  lost  sight  of  him.  At  this  point  in  her  story 
Mrs.  Boelter  makes  the  following  touching  note  :  "  I  never  saw 
nor  heard  of  my  husband  after  he  left  on  the  morning  of  the 
18th  of  August  to  look  after  the  cattle." 

The  mother  and  her  two  children  sought  refuge  in  the  woods. 
For  several  days  they  lingered  in  the  locality,  subsisting  on 
some  raw  potatoes,  which  she  found  in  the  cellar  of  a  house 
which  had  been  plundered.  On  Friday  Mrs.  Boelter  ventured 
to  the  house  of  her  brother-in-law.  She  was  shocked  to  dis 
cover  his  mother  lying  on  the  floor,  her  head  severed  from  her 
body,  the  house  plundered,  an^the  furniture  and  bedding  strewn 
around  the  yard  in  wild  confusion.  In  one  corner  of  the  yard 
lay  the  corpses  of  five  children.  Without  losing  her  presence 
of  mind,  Mrs.  Boelter  ran  into  the  garden,  hastily  dug  up  some 
potatoes  with  her  fingers,  gathered  some  cucumbers,  and  hurried 
back  to  her  children  in  the  woods. 

The  unhappy  woman  remained  in  the  wilderness  week  after 
week  completely  bewildered.  Heavy  rains  set  in,  and  in  the 
fifth  week  the  eldest  child  died  from  exposure  and  starvation. 
Cold,  wet,  and  starving,  the  mother  sat  in  the  rain,  watching 


818  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  body  of  her  dead  child  for  four  days.  She  and  the  living 
child  subsisted  on  grape  leaves.  The  corpse  now  became  offen 
sive  and  was  covered  with  multitudes  of  flies.  The  mother 
attempted  to  remove  but  found  herself  too  weak  to  crawl  a  foot. 
After  many  trials  she  succeeded  in  crawling  away  about  fifty 
yards.  At  this  time  a  heavy  frost  came  and  killed  the  grape 
leaves.  The  mother,  somewhat  stronger,  crawled  through  the 
woods  to  find  some  sheltered  vine,  which  the  frost  had  not 
reached.  In  this  she  succeeded  and  gathered  some  leaves ;  but 
having  left  her  child  behind,  and  her  intellect  being  affected, 
she  could  not  find  it.  Though  the  light  of  reason  flickered 
feebly  in  its  socket,  the  instinct  of  motherhood  remained  strong. 
After  groping  around  for  a  day  and  a  half,  the  wretched  woman 
was  overjoyed  to  find  her  child. 

Further  subsistence  upon  foliage  being  impossible,  the  mother 
again  attempted  to  crawl  to  the  garden  of  her  brother-in-law's 
house.  She  was  six  hours  in  traversing  the  quarter  of  a  mile. 
She  found  a  few  potatoes  and  a  small  pumpkin.  Unable  to 
carry  both  at  once,  she  carried  the  pumpkin  some  distance  and 
then  returned  for  the  potatoes.  By  alternate  stages  she  finally 
reached  the  spot  where  she  had  left  her  child.  The  trip  to  the 
garden,  one  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  had  taken  a  day  and  a  half. 

A  new  horror  awaited  her  return.  Multitudes  of  snakes, 
large  and  small,  had  surrounded  and  covered  her  child.  When 
she  herself  came  up  they  crawled  over  her  and  covered  her. 
She  says  in  her  story,  "  I  found  £hat  they  did  me  no  harm,  and 
they  soon  ceased  to  be  an  annoyance ;  indeed,  their  company 
became  agreeable  in  my  lonely  condition  after  I  became  accus 
tomed  to  their  presence." 

Mrs.  Boelter  remained  where  she  was  another  week.  It 
was  now  the  middle  of  October.  The  cold  became  severe.  Giv 
ing  up  all  hope  of  being  rescued,  a  dull  purpose  came  into  her 
head  to  return  to  her  own  home.  By  alternately  pushing  and 
dragging  her  child,  she  made  her  way  back  with  infinite  trouble 
to  the  desolated  abode.  Shortly  afterward  a  relief  party  of 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  819 

soldiers  pushed  open  the  door  of  the  house,  and  discovered 
lying  on  some  rags  in  the  corner  what  seemed  to  be  a  skeleton 
covered  with  a  yellow  parchment.  On  the  breast  of  this  form 
lay  another,  much  smaller  and  possessing  rather  more  flesh.  The 
soldiers  went  up  gently  to  the  rude  pallet,  and  found  that  the 
two  emaciated  forms  were  human  beings,  almost  but  not  quite 
dead.  The  woman  raised  her  eyes,  and  something  like  a  whis 
per  came  from  her  mouth.  A  weak  broth  was  hastily  prepared. 
After  being  nursed  for  two  days  the  mother  and  her  child  gained 
sufficient  strength  to  be  taken  to  the  camp  of  the  soldiers.  This 
was  on  October  27th,  just  eight  weeks  after  the  massacre.  Mrs. 
Boelter  was  subsequently  removed  to  Fort  Ridgley,  and  in  some 
degree  recovered  her  health  and  strength. 

During  all  of  the  fatal  18th  of  August  the  people  at  the  Upper 
Agency  were  completely  ignorant  of  any  thing  unusual  going 
on.  Just  at  sunset  the  inhabitants  were  surprised  to  see  a 
large  body  of  Indians  gathered  on  a  hill  west  of  the  settlement. 
In  a  little  while  John  Otherday,  a  farmer  Indian,  came  in  with 
news  of  the  terrible  massacre  which  had  been  raging  thirty  miles 
away.  The  people  of  the  settlement  were  hastily  gathered  into 
the  government  warehouse,  and  resolved  to  defend  themselves 
to  the  last  extremity.  Sixty-two  men,  women,  and  children 
remained  awake  and  distressed  through  the  night. 

About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  trader  named  Garvie 
knocked  for  admittance.  He  had  been  guarding  his  store  and 
was  shot  in  the  bowels,  but  managed  to  escape  through  his  gar 
den  to  the  warehouse.  Two  men,  Kennedy  and  Boardman,  were 
asleep  in  another  store.  A  man  ran  and  told  them  to  run  for 
their  lives.  One  took  to  the  warehouse,  the  other  started  to 
Fort  Ridgley.  In  a  short  time  the  Indians  had  killed  or  driven 
off  all  the  storekeepers  of  the  place,  and  instantly  began  the 
work  of  plunder.  Peter  Patoile  was  shot  through  the  breast, 
and  left  for  dead.  He  crawled  to  some  bushes  on  the  river  bank, 
and  remained  there  all  the  following  day.  At  nightfall  he 
dragged  himself  to  the  shores  of  the  Minnesota  River,  and 


820  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

forded  the  stream.  Finding  a  deserted  settler's  house,  he  passed 
the  night  there,  but  in  the  morning,  discovering  Indians  about, 
seized  a  blanket  and  hid  in  a  neighboring  ravine.  He  wan 
dered  about  through  an  uninhabited  country,  and  finally  struck 
a  settlement  far  up  the  Sauk  Valley,  where  his  wound  was 
dressed  for  the  first  time. 

At  the  warehouse  at  Yellow  Medicine,  John  Otherday,  the 
faithful  Indian,  remained  on  watch  all  night.  The  shouts  of  the 
Indians  could  be  heard  in  .the  darkness  as  they  proceeded  in 
their  work  of  plunder  and  destruction  at  the  trading  post,  half  a 
mile  away.  It  was  evident  that  to  remain  where  they  were 
meant  certain  death.  The  seriousness  of  the  situation  was 
appalling.  Slender  as  were  the  chances  of  escape,  the  resolve 
was  taken  to  attempt  it.  Teams  were  hastily  harnessed  to  such 
wagons  as  could  be  had,  and  into  them  climbed  the  women  and 
children.  A  small  supply  of  provisions  was  thrown  together, 
&nd  just  at  dawn  the  terrified  procession,  of  which  the  male 
members  were  on  foot,  crossed  the  Minnesota  River,  and,  guided 
by  John  Otherday,  struck  across  the  prairie  in  the  direction  of 
the  settlements  of  the  Kandiyohi  Lakes.  A  hard  storm  over 
took  the  party,  during  which  poor  Garvie  died. 

By  the  unflinching  devotion  of  John  Otherday,  a  pure  full- 
blooded  Indian,  who  only  three  years  before  had  been  of  the 
wildest  of  the  savages,  the  lives  of  sixty-two  persons  were 
rescued  from  the  massacre.  Yielding  to  his  advice  to  not  attempt 
flight  in  the  direction  of  Fort  Ridgley,  where  they  would  be  cer 
tainly  destroyed,  the  party  placed  their  lives  in  his  hands,  and 
struck  into  a  trackless  wilderness,  with  which  he  alone  was 
acquainted.  On  Friday,  the  22d,  he  guided  them  safely  into 
Shakopee,  Scott  county. 

The  settlers  around  Yellow  Medicine  heard  the  news  of  the 
massacre  during  Monday  night.  They  met  with  various  for 
tunes.  One  party  started  in  the  direction  of  Fort  Ridgley,  and 
found  the  place  surrounded  with  savages.  Andrew  Hunter 
managed  to  crawl  through  the  underbrush  and  make  his  way 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  821 

into  the  fort.  The  garrison  told  him  that  it  was  certain  death 
for  his  company  of  more  than  forty  people  to  attempt  to  make 
their  way  through  the  lines  of  the  Indians  into  the  fort.  He 
returned  to  his  companions  with  the  sad  news  that  they  must 
look  elsewhere  for  safety.  Heart-sick,  the  fugitives  resumed 
their  weary  march.  All  around  the  horizon  they  could  see  the 
red  light  from  burning  dwellings. 

Four  Germans  who  had  joined  their  party  left  them  on  the 
following  morning,  going  in  the  direction  of  New  Ulm.  They 
had  scarcely  proceeded  a  mile  before  the  main  body  heard  a 
volley  of  shots.  Later  it  was  ascertained  that  the  men  had  been 
killed.  The  party  pressed  on  in  the  direction  of  Henderson. 
As  they  journeyed,  the  sounds  of  the  conflict  at  New  Ulm  were 
borne  faintly  to  their  ears  upon  the  breeze.  They  eventually 
reached  their  destination.  Three  miles  below  Yellow  Medicine 
lived  Leopold  Wohler.  Joining  a  party  of  eighteen  persons,  on 
their  way  to  Fort  Ridgley,  he  traveled  till  overtaken  by  Indians 
at  Beaver  Creek.  The  whole  company  was  captured,  with  a 
single  exception.  Blair  was  released  on  account  of  his  wife's 
mixed  blood.  After  five  days  Blair  reached  the  fort,  and  was 
at  once  arrested  and  imprisoned  as  a  spy.  He  protested  with 
out  effect.  He  was  a  man  of  delicate  health,  and  quickly  suc 
cumbed  to  his  misfortunes,  to  find  quiet  in  the  grave. 

Leavenworth  was  the  name  of  a  settlement  on  Cottonwood 
River,  in  Brown  county.  The  alarm  reached  here  on  the  after 
noon  of  Monday,  the  18th.  One  party  of  six,  on  their  way  to 
New  Ulm,  were  attacked  and  killed.  Near  this  settlement  lived 
a  Mr.  Covill.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  hurried  from 
a  field,  where  he  had  been  stacking  grain,  to  his  house,  and  told 
his  wife  to  get  ready  for  flight,  while  he  roused  the  neighbors 
and  got  a  team.  Mrs.  Covill  packed  a  trunk  with  clothing,  and 
hid  it  and  herself  in  the  grass,  as  she  was  afraid  to  stay  in  the 
house.  The  party  was  quickly  .made  up.  One  of  its  members 
was  a  poor  woman  from  Tennessee.  Her  child  had  died  that 
day,  and  the  mother  carried  the  corpse  in  her  arms.  The  party 


822  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCE*. 

passed  the  night  at  the  house  of  a   Mr.  Van  Guilder.      Nearly 
all  of  the  people  had  already  gone  to  New  Ulm. 

In  the  morning  the  party  started  out  again,  but,  discovering 
some  Indians,  they  hurried  back  to  the  house  amid  a  shower 
of  balls.  One  old  lady  had  her  arm  broken  by  a  bullet.  The 
horses  were  left  unhitched  in  the  haste  to  get  to  the  house,  and 
they  ran  away.  The  Indians  followed  the  team,  and  the  party, 
now  consisting  of  fifteen  people,  started  once  more.  Their  only 
conveyance  was  an  ox-team.  The  Tennessee  mother  sadly  left 
the  body  of  her  child  behind.  This  party  remained  in  the 
woods  till  Friday,  subsisting  on  raw  flour.  One  of  the  number 
died.  On  the  day  named  a  rescuing  party  from  New  Ulm 
reached  them. 

In  the  same  locality  with  these  people  lived  Elijah  Whiton. 
^On  Monday  evening  a  settler  stopped  and  told  him  that  the 
Indians  had  murdered  a  family  on  the  Minnesota  River.  The 
Whitons  paid  no  particular  attention  to  the  news,  and,  isolated 
by  the  flight  of  the  people  from  that  region,  a  fact  of  which 
they  were  ignorant,  heard  nothing  further  until  Thursday  after 
noon.  About  four  o'clock  Mr.  Whiton,  at  work  in  his  field,  saw 
a  neighbor  running  down  the  road,  pursued  by  Indians.  The 
man's  family  had  been  murdered,  but  he  himself  escaped. 
Whiton  ran  to  his  house,  and  told  his  wife  and  two  children  to 
go  to  New  Ulm  through  the  woods,  while  he  went  to  warn  his 
brother  Luther. 

Mr.  Whiton  was  never  seen  alive  by  his  family  again.  His 
wife  and  children  had  proceeded  but  a  little  way  when  they 
saw  a  band  of  Indians  surround  the  house,  load  the  wagon  with 
every  thing  valuable,  hitch  up  the  horses,  and  drive  off.  As  the 
woman  and  her  children  fled  through  the  night,  they  were  ter 
ror-stricken  to  find  in  the  road  six  corpses,  being  the  entire 
family  of  their  neighbor  Blum.  They  succeeded  in  reaching 
New  Ulm  on  Friday  evening.  Mr.  Whiton,  after  hunting  for 
his  brother,  returned  to  his  home  only  to  find  it  already  plun 
dered.  Falling  in  with  a  man  named  Daly,  who  had  escaped 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  823 

from  Lake  Shetek,  they  traveled  together  till  they  came  to  a 
deserted  farm-house.  The  men  had  had  nothing  to  eat  for  forty- 
eight  hours.  They  entered  and  found  the  table  spread  for  a 
meal.  It  had  been  standing  nearly  two  days,  the  family  hav 
ing  left  without  touching  it.  While  eating,  two  Indians  entered 
the  house  unobserved  and  shot  Whiton  dead.  His  companion 
escaped. 

The  extent  of  the  massacre  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  at 
Big  Stone  Lake,  in  the  county  of  that  name,  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from  New  Ulm,  the  outbreak  was  almost  simultane 
ous  with  that  at  the  places  heretofore  named.  All  the  people  of 
the  settlement  were  massacred  except  a  half-breed  named  Gu- 
beau  and  Anton  Manderfeld,  who  escaped.  Gubeau  was  bound 
with  raw  hide,  but  he  was  cool  and  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  Indian  character.  He  was  seated  on  the  ground  and  a  ring 
of  yelling  savages  danced  about  him.  Watching  his  opportu 
nity,  he  collected  all  his  strength,  and  with  a  single  leap,  bound 
though  he  was  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  sprang  over  the 
heads  of  the  dancers,  and  sped  over  the  prairie  with  the  fleet- 
ness  of  a  deer.  He  headed  straight  for  the  lake.  His  pursuers 
followed  close,  firing  at  him  incessantly ;  but  he  seemed  to  bear 
a  charmed  life. 

Reaching  the  marsh  at  the  border  of  the  lake,  with  its  tall 
growth  of  grass  and  weeds,  Gubeau  plunged  in  and  had  buried 
himself  in  the  water  up  to  his  chin.  The  water  soon  rendered  the 
rawhide  soft  and  slippery,  so  that  he  could  release  his  hands. 
Coming  out  of  his  hiding-place,  he  traveled  for  days  till  he 
reached  St.  Cloud.  Completely  worn  out,  he  thought  he  had 
reached  a  place  of  safety.  Not  so.  The  people  of  the  place, 
lashed  into  the  wildest  excitement  by  the  appalling  massacre, 
of  which  reports  had  reached  them,  instantly  detected  the  pres 
ence  of  Indian  blood  in  the  veins  of  poor  Gubeau,  arrested  him 
as  a  spy,  and  prepared  to  hang  him.  All  his  protestations  were 
in  vain.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  be  executed,  a  gentleman 
pressed  his  way  through  the  crowd,  recognized  and  rescued  him. 


824  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

A  mile  from  the  store  on  Big  Stone  Lake  Anton  Manderfeld 
was  at  work.  A  man  came  by  on  Thursday  and  told  him  that 
there  was  not  a  white  man  left  alive  on  the  whole  reservation. 
Just  at  that  moment  a  hundred  Indians  carne  toward  the  camp. 
Two  of  the  men  were  fired  upon  and  killed,  but  Manderfeld  and 
his  cousin  took  to  the  prairie  and  hid  in  the  grass.  A  little  later 
the  cousin  insisted  on  going  down  to  the  lake  shore.  Mander 
feld  shortly  heard  three  shots.  His  cousin  was  dead.  It  now 
remained  for  Manderfeld  to  escape  if  possible.  He  traveled 
through  the  country,  directing  his  course  toward  the  Minne 
sota  River. 

About  nine  o'clock  one  evening  he  came  upon  a  farm-house. 
No  light  shone  from  the  window.  Overcome  with  hunger,  he 
went  toward  the  door,  which  was  open.  He  was  met  by  a 
terrible  stench.  He  retraced  his  steps  for  a  short  distance, 
and  again  resolved  to  hunt  for  some  food.  Stepping  into  the 
door,  he  stumbled  over  something  in  the  dark.  He  stooped 
down  and  felt  the  object.  His  'hand  came  in  contact  with  some 
cold  and  sticky  substance.  Holding  his  hand  in  the  moonlight 
he  observed  that  it  was  bloody.  Another  look  at  the  object 
disclosed  that^  it  was  the  body  of  an  elderly  man.  Manderfeld 
shuddered.  The  stench  was  intolerable.  He  passed  on  into  the 
next  room.  The  moonlight,  which  came  in  through  the  open 
window,  revealed  the  white  face  of  a  woman  with  staring  eye 
balls  lying  on  the  floor.  A  great  gash  had  almost  severed  the 
head  from  the  body. 

Thrilled  with  horror,  Manderfeld  turned  his  face  away. 
There  he  beheld  three  other  forms.  They  were  those  of  the 
children.  The  heads  had  been  beaten  off;  only  the  trunks 
remained.  Afterward  it  was  known  that  the  savages  had  at 
tacked  the  place  in  the  evening  a  day  or  two  before.  All  the 
household  had  been  slain.  The  man  fled  from  the  house,  pre 
ferring  not  to  take  anything  to  eat.  As  he  ran,  some  cattle  and 
dogs  and  hogs,  which  were  still  alive  on  the  place,  but  almost 
famished,  delighted  to  see  a  human  being,  took  after  him,  mak- 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  827 

ing  a  great  noise.  Manderfeld  was  frightened.  The  barking 
of  the  dogs,  the  lowing  of  the  cattle,  their  jingling  bells, 
and  the  squealing  of  the  hogs,  had  a  strange,  unearthly  sound, 
The  man  ran  on  and  on,  but  the  dumb  brutes  only  followed 
faster.  A  troop  of  hobgoblins  could  not  have  frightened  Man 
derfeld  more. 

Shattered  by  exposure  and  hunger,  not  yet  recovered  from 
the  awful  scene  which  he  had  just  witnessed  in  that  lonely 
farm-house  in  the  dead  hours  of  night,  the  poor  man  was  almost 
crazy.  The  noise  was  certain  to  attract  the  attention  of  any 
savages  within  the  range  of  several  miles.  He  stopped  and 
shouted  at  the  animals.  He  waved  his  hands  at  them.  He 
gathered  clubs  and  stones  to  beat  them  off.  All  was  useless. 
The  creatures,  as  if  aware  of  the  terrible  things  which  had  hap 
pened,  were  resolved  not  to  be  left  alone.  Not  till  he  crossed 
a  river  did  he  shake  off  the  pursuit,  and  even  then  the  watch 
dog  stood  upon  the  bank  and  howled  mournful  reproaches  after 
him.  Manderfeld  at  last  succeeded  in  reaching  Fort  Bidgley. 

Lake  Shetek  is  in  Murray  county,  Minnesota,  seventy  miles 
west  of  New  Ului.  Here  a  dozen  families  had  located,  far  in 
advance  of  the  line  of  regular  settlements.  About  five  o'clock 
on  Wednesday  morning,  August  20,  1862,  Mrs.  Hurd  was 
milking  her  cows.  Her  children  were  in  the  house  asleep.  At 
that  moment  twenty  Indians  rode  up  and  dismounted.  A  man 
named  Voight  came  to  the  door  with  the  youngest  child  in  his 
arms  just  in  time  to  receive  a  bullet,  which  passed  through  the 
body  of  the  child  and  fatally  wounded  the  man.  The  Indians 
commenced  an  indiscriminate  destruction  of  every  thing  in  the 
house.  Mr.  Hurd,  it  should  have  been  said,  was  away  from 
home.  The  Indians  told  Mrs.  Hurd  that  she  might  take  her 
two  children,  the  oldest  a  boy  of  four  years  and  go  wherever 
she  pleased.  Running  on  through  the  prairie,  she  heard  the 
crack  of  guns  behind  her  and  knew  that  death  had  overtaken 
her  neighbors. 

The  journey  before  her  was  one  of  seventy  miles  through 

46 


828  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

an  uninhabited  country.  The  unhappy  woman  lost  her  way, 
and  at  the  end  of  two  days  found  herself  only  four  miles  from 
her  home.  Nevertheless  she  pushed  on  as  well  as  she  could. 
Unable  to  carry  both  of  her  children  at  the  same  time,  she 
would  take  one  for  half  a  mile,  lay  it  down  in  the  grass,  and  go 
back  for  the  other.  In  this  way  she  traveled  twelve  miles  to 
the  nearest  house.  She  was  heart-broken  to  find  the  place 
deserted ;  but  a  few  raw  onions  and  a  spoiled  ham  afforded  some 
relief.  Before  long,  Mrs.  Kurd  fell  in  with  some  of  her  neigh 
bors,  and  eventually  reached  New  Ulm,  where  they  found  tem 
porary  relief.  On  her  way  Mrs.  Kurd  had  learned  that  her 
husband  had  been  killed. 

The  Indians  passed  from  Kurd's  house  to  those  of  the 
neighbors.  The  latter  catching  the  alarm,  gathered  in  Mr. 
Wright's  house.  The  mud  was  knocked  out  from  between  the 
logs.  The  *women  were  put  up-stairs,  while  the  men  prepared 
below  to  fight.  Shortly  the  Indians  came  in  sight.  The  peo 
ple,  unused  to  savage  warfare,  were  panic-stricken,  and  seizing 
their  horses,  took  to  flight.  Several  of  the  party  were  wounded. 
The  Indians  quickly  overtook  and  surrounded  them.  From 
time  to  -time  the  savages  fired,  killing  the  men.  Mrs.  Eastlick 
and  the  other  women  and  children  were  taken  captives.  In  a 
few  moments  the  first  named  woman  was  shot  and  left  for  dead. 
When  the  Indians  left  she  crawled  back  to  the  scene  of  the 
murder,  and  found  the  bodies  of  her  friends.  She  wandered 
around  several  days,  and  finally  fell  in  with  the  same  party 
which  Mrs.  Hurd  had  met.  The  sufferings  of  the  whole  party 
were  fearful.  On  their  way  they  parsed  the  house  of  Mr. 
Brown,  in  which  the  whole  family  had  been  killed.  Mrs.  East- 
lick  reached  New  Ulm  with  the  rest  of  the  party. 

We  have  been  tracing  the  flight  of  various  fugitives  to  New 
Ulm.  This  place  was  on  the  Minnesota  River,  thirty  miles  from 
the  Lower  Agency.  On  the  morning  of  the  18th  of  August  a 
party  of  volunteers  set  out  from  this  place  to  join  the  Union 
army  at  the  call  of  President  Lincoln.^  They  had  traveled 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  829 

about  eight  miles,  marching  to  the  grand,  wild  music  of  war, 
full  of  anxious  thoughts  for  tfiose  left  behind.  Suddenly  the 
column  halted.  The  men  discovered  a  number  of  dead  bodies 
lying  in  the  road,  and  were,  at  the  same  moment,  fired  upon 
by  Indians.  They  also  heard  shots  in  various  directions,  and 
saw  people  running  across  the  prairie.  The  volunteers  turned 
back  to  New  Ulm,  destined  to  take  part  in  a  war  somewhat 
nearer  home  than  they  had  anticipated.  The  people  from  the 
surrounding  country  soon  began  to  pour  into  the  place,  bring 
ing  vague  and  terrible  reports  of  an  awful  massacre  which  was 
taking  place  up  the  valley. 

The  people  were  wild  with  panic.  xFor  many  years  there 
had  been  no  trouble  with  the  Indians  in  that  part  of  the  coun 
try.  The  great  part  of  the  settlers  had  no  weapons,  and  for 
Indian  fighting  they  were  utterly  unprepared.  At  night,  the 
throngs  of  wretched  fugitives,  which  packed  the  houses  and 
streets  of  New  Ulm  or  poured  through  the  place,  seeking  refuge 
at  points  lower  down  the  river,  could  see  the  sky  lit  up  by  hun 
dreds  of  burning  farm-houses,  barns,  and  hay-stacks.  Within 
a  day  or  two  companies  of  volunteer  troops  began  to  arrive  at 
New  Ulm  from  adjoining  places,  until  there  were  about  five 
hundred  to  defend  the  town. 

A  large  force  of  Indians  surrounded  the  place,  which  had 
been  supplied  with  hasty  barricades.  On  Saturday  morning  a 
long  column  of  Indians  were  seen  in  full  career  across  the 
prairie,  headed  for  the  place.  When  tolerably  near,  the  column 
was  seen  to  open  like  a  fan  into  a  line  long  enough  to  surround 
the  entire  village.  A  desperate  battle  was  fought.  The  Indians 
broke  over  the  barricades,  and  the  place  was  defended  from  the 
houses.  The  enemy,  capturing  the  lower  part  of  the  town, 
fired  the  buildings,  and  the  roar  and  smoke  of  the  flames  added 
horror  to  the  battle.  At  night  the  savages  withdrew,  having 
burned  more  than  two  hundred  houses  and  filled  the  town  with 
the  wounded,  dead,  and  dying.  This  was  the  place  which  hun 
dreds  of  fugitives  had  traveled  great  distances  and  undergone 


830  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

infinite  hardships  to  reach  as  one  of  refuge.  On  Monday  morn 
ing  it  was  decided  to  abandon  the  place  into  which  two  thou 
sand  people  were  huddled  together  like  cattle.  One  hundred 
and  fifty-three  wagon  loads  of  wounded,  sick,  and  helpless  filed 
down  the  road  on  the  retreat  to  St.  Peter. 

Fort  Ridgley  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  point  toward  which 
great  numbers  of  the  people  directed  their  flight.  The  first 
news  of  the  massacre  reached  there  about  nine  o'clock  on  the 
morning  of  the  bloody  Monday.  There  were  then  in  the  fort 
about  eighty  soldiers.  One-half  of  the  number  at  once  started 
for  the  Lower  Agency.  The  little  company  reached  the  ferry 
at  the  latter  place,  and  were  attacked  by  five  hundred  Indians. 
More  than  half  their  number  were  killed  here.  Thirteen  of 
the  men  escaped  by  swimming  the  river,  and  a  few  more 
reached  the  fort  at  night. 

Fort  Ridgley  was  situated  on  the  edge  of  a  prairie,  with  two 
wooded  ravines  on  either  side  of  it,  and  timber  land  on  a 
third  side.  On  the  afternoon  of  Wednesday  the  Indians  con 
centrated  their  forces  upon  the  fort.  From  the  cover  of  the 
ravines  they  poured  in  a  terrific  fire.  Although  the  place  was 
called  a  fort,  it  was  really  a  cluster  of  barracks,  stores,  and 
barns  around  a  parade  ground.  The  magazine,  strange  to  say, 
was  located  out  in  the  prairie,  twenty  rods  from  the  main 
fort,  in  which  was  very  little  ammunition.  The  first  task  of 
the  garrison  was  to  carry  in  ammunition  from  the  magazine. 
The  men  ran  back  and  forth  in  the  midst  of  a  heavy  fire.  It 
was  perilous  work.  Three  howitzers  were  used  with  great 
effect  in  shelling  the  woods.  The  Indians  never  left  their 
cover,  and  towards  night  withdrew.  On  the  following  day,  the 
men  were  busily  employed  in  erecting  temporary  barricades 
with  sacks  of  oats  and  piles  of  cord  wood.  The  wooden  roofs 
of  the  buildings  were  covered  with  earth  as  a  protection 
against  fire. 

On  Friday  the  Indians  again  appeared  in  great  force.  They 
secured  possession  of  some  out-buildings,  and  set  them  on 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  831 

fire,  aiming  to  leave  one  side  of  the  place  exposed.  In  the 
struggle  which  ensued  at  this  point,  the  soldiers  captured  a 
wounded  Indian,  and,  in  their  rage,  flung  him  headlong  into  the 
burning  building,  where  he  perished.  The  Indians  did  not 
withdraw  from  the  fort  until  it  received  re-enforcements  on 
August  27th. 

Within  a  day  or  two  the  news  of  the  great  massacre  spread 
through  Minnesota,  and  volunteer  companies  of  citizens  were 
organized  at  different  points  in  the  State  and  hurried  to  the 
scene  of  hostilities.  Some  of  these  companies  met  with  thrill 
ing  experiences.  They  found  the  counties  bordering  on  the 
reservation  completely  depopulated.  In  many  of  the  settle 
ments  the  entire  body  of  inhabitants  had  been  massacred. 
Here  and  there,  in  exceptional  cases,  small  bodies  of  deter 
mined  men  had  barricaded  themselves  for  a  desperate  resist^ 
ance.  All  through  the  month  of  September  mounted  compa 
nies  ranged  the  country  in  search  of  helpless  fugitives,  and 
intent  on  relieving  such  of  the  people  as  still  held  out. 

While  the  troops  under  Colonel  Sibley  were  hurrying  to  the 
front  with  the  real  military  strength  which  was  to  crush  the 
great  revolt,  let  us  glance  for  a  moment  at  the  condition  of  the 
country.  It  is  to  be -remembered  that  eighteen  counties,  popu 
lated  by  forty  thousand  people,  were  laid  desolate.  In  all  this 
vast  extent  of  country  not  a  village,  not  a  settlement,  had 
escaped  the  red  hand  of  the  murderer.  The  blow  had  fallen 
simultaneously  and  without  a  single  note  of  warning  to  the  vic 
tims.  Such  as  had  escaped  from  the  first  work  of  death,  fled  like 
deer  across  the  country.  A  stream  of  fugitives,  composed  of 
thirty  thousand  wretched,  homeless  people  poured  down  the 
Minnesota  valley.  This  tide  of  helpless  humanity,  on  foot,  on 
horse,  and  in  wagons,  rolled  on  and  on,  spreading  panic  in  their 
course,  until  they  reached  the  Mississippi  River,  and  great  num 
bers  of  them  fled  from  the  state,  leaving  all  their  property,  and 
never  returned. 

In  our  story  we  have  related  briefly  the  experiences  of  a 


832  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

few  of  the  unhappy  people,  selected  at  random,  here  and  there, 
from  this  awful  procession  of  refugees.  They  are  but  meager 
and  insufficient  examples  of  the  sufferings  of  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  persons.  The  whole  country,  thus  depopulated, 
was  given  over  to  the  fire  and  sword. 

A  glimpse  at  the  town  of  St.  Peter,  as  it  appeared  on  the 
morning  of  Wednesday,  August  20, 1862,  gives  some  idea  of  the 
distress  of  the  flying  people.  The  natural  population  of  the  town 
was  about  one  thousand.  It  was  a  quiet  western  village,  in  which 
the  chime  of  the  church  bells,  the  rumbling  of  the  flour-mill, 
and  the  musical  strokes  of  the  blacksmith  on  his  anvil  were  the 
only  disturbing  sounds.  On  sunny  Saturdays  a  score  of  farm 
wagons  would  be  seen  in  the  streets,  but  a  greater  assemblage 
was,  indeed,  rare. 

On  Monday  evening  rumors  of  the  massacre  had  reached  the 
place,  and  the  startled  citizens  were  in  the  streets,  discussing 
the  situation.  By  midnight  the  tide  of  fugitives  began  to  surge 
into  the  place.  Hour  after  hour  passed,  and  the  stream  of 
arrivals  thickened  constantly.  All  day  Tuesday  and  Tuesday 
night  the  procession  of  unfortunates  rushed  and  crowded  pell- 
mell  into  the  place.  By  Wednesday  morning  the  population 
had  increased  to  many  thousands.  "  Every  private  house,  every 
public  house,  every  church,  school-house,  warehouse,  shed,  or 
saloon,  and  every  vacant  structure,  was  full.  The  crowd 
thronged  the  public  highways ;  a  line  of  cooking-stoves  smoked 
along  the  streets,  and  vacant  lots  were  packed  with  people,  for 
there  was  no  longer  room  in  the  houses.  All  was  clatter,  rattle, 
and  din.  Wagons,  ponies,  mules,  oxen,  cows,  and  calves  were 
promiscuously  distributed  among  the  multitude  of  haggard  men, 
forlorn  women,  and  weeping  children. 

"  The  live  stock  from  thousands  of  deserted  farms  surrounded 
the  outskirts  of  the  town.  The  lowing  of  strange  cattle,  the 
neighing  of  restless  horses,  the  crying  of  lost  and  hungry  chil 
dren,  the  tales  of  horror,  the  tomahawk  wounds  undressed,  the 
bleeding  feet,  the  cries  for  food,  and  the  loud  wailing  for  miss- 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  833 

ing  friends — all   combined  to  burn  into  the  soul  the  dreadful 
reality  that  some  terrible  calamity  was  upon  the  country." 

Persons  who  were  in  the  place  at  the  time,  say  that  every 
hour  or  two  some  wild  rumor  of  the  approach  of  Indians, 
occasioned  by  the  arrival  of  a  new  wagon  load  of  wounded  and 
dying  people,  would  sweep  through  the  multitude  and  drive 
them  wild  with  panic.  Every  breeze  seemed  to  bear  the  echo 
of  war  whoops,  faint  with  distance.  When,  on  Friday,  Colonel 
Sibley  with  fifteen  hundred  men  marched  through  the  place,  the 
joy  of  the  people  was  thrilling.  The  vast  multitude  joined  in  a 
mighty  shout.  The  soldiers  passed  on. 

The  danger  of  massacre  abated,  only  to  be  succeeded  by  the 
horrors  of  starvation.  Seven  thousand  people  besides  the  citi 
zens  of  the  place  were  already  packed  into  the  village,  and  the 
train  of  two  thousand  unfortunates  from  New  Ulm  was  already 
on  the  way  to  enlarge  the  multitude.  The  citizens  worked  day 
and  night,  animated  by  heroic  and  lofty  impulses.  A  bakery 
was  established,  turning  out  two  thousand  loaves  of  bread  per 
day ;  yet  so  inadequate  was  this  for  the  throng  of  nine  thou 
sand  people,  that  every  cooking  stove  in  the  place  was  red  hot 
day  and  night,  for  the  purposes  of  baking.  A  soup  house  was 
established,  where  twelve  hundred  people  could  be  fed  daily. 
Of  meat  there  was  less  scarcity,  as  the  live  stock  of  the  fugi 
tives  afforded  a  fair  supply.  But  the  task  of  feeding  the  living 
did  not  stop  with  the  human  beings.  Vast  and  unruly  herds  of 
horses  and  cattle,  furious  from  fright  and  crazy  with  hunger, 
charged  back  and  forth  through  the  town,  breaking  down  and  ' 
leaping  fences,  devouring  every  green  thing,  until  the  place  and 
the  country  surrounding  it  was  as  barren  as  a  desert. 

This  view  of  St.  Peter  is  true  also  for  numbers  of  other 
places,  on  which  the  army  of  refugees  advanced  with  crushing 
weight.  Meanwhile  the  expedition  under  Colonel  Sibley  gradu 
ally  drove  the  Indians  from  the  country.  Many  severe  battles 
were  fought.  Throngs  of  whites  were  rescued.  Large  numbers 
of  captives  were  taken.  Of  these-  more  than  three  hundred 


834  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

were  condemned  to  death.  Little  Crow,  and  the  remainder  of 
the  Sioux  fled  to  the  mountain  fastnesses  of  the  west,  far 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  Minnesota.  Winter  found  the  war 
still  in  progress.  On  the  24th  of  December,  thirty-eight 
Indians,  the  remainder  of  the  three  hundred  having  had  their 
sentences  commuted,  were  led  to  the  gallows.  As  they  marched 
out,  the  rattling  of  their  chains,  which  at  first  alone  broke  the 
solemn  silence,  was  drowned  in  the  wild  and  plaintive  music  of 
their  death  songs.  Even  after  the  white  caps  were  drawn  over 
their  faces,  the  song  still  continued,  though  muffled  and  broken. 
Some  one  who  understood  the  language  said  that  their  singing 
and  shouting  was  only  to  sustain  each  other.  Each  one  shouted 
his  own  name  and  called  on  the  name  of  his  friend,  saying  in 
substance,  "  I  'm  here !  I  'm  here !" 

The  war  continued  during  a  portion  of  the  year  1863.  On 
the  evening  of  July  3d  of  that  year,  while  the  thunder  of  can 
non  at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  was  shaking  the  whole  earth, 
and  while  ranks  of  the  brave  and  true  were  falling  on  all  sides, 
in  this,  the  greatest  conflict  of  the  civil  war,  a  gentleman  trav 
eling  along  a  road  six  miles  north  of  Hutchinson,  Minnesota, 
heard  a  rustle  in  the  bushes  near  by.  Quick  as  thought  he 
threw  his  gun  to  his  shoulder  and  fired.  A  savage  dropped 
dead.  In  his  hands  were  found  some  wild  berries,  which  he 
had  been  gathering  and  eating.  Some  settlers  hurried  to  the 
spot,  and  one  of  them  recognized  the  dead  Indian.  It  was  none 
other  than  Little  Crow  himself.  His  young  son  was  caught  not 
far  off. 

Thus  at  an  unexpected  moment  the  arch-conspirator  of  the 
Sioux  was  overtaken  by  a  punishment  which  he  had  long  de 
served.  The  Sioux  themselves  were  deprived  of  their  lovely 
home  along  the  Minnesota  River,  and  were  given  a  reservation 
in  south-western  Dakota.  In  this  territory  lie  the  famous  Black 
Hills.  They  were  destined,  however,  to  involve  the  United  States 
in  many  a  subsequent  Indian  war. 

The  great   Sioux   massacre,   of  which   the  story   has   been 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MINNESOTA.  835 

briefly  and  inadequately  told,  stands  completely  without  a  par 
allel  in  all  the  bloody  history  of  the  conflicts  between  the  red 
and  white  men  on  the  American  continent.  In  its  suddenness 
and  extent,  in  its  monstrous  atrocity,  and  its  Satanic  perfection 
of  details,  it  must  take  rank  with  the  greatest  massacres  of  all 
time.  Occurring  as  it  did  at  a  period  when  the  people  had  no 
more  apprehension  of  an  Indian  war  than  do  the  inhabitants  of 
any  farming  region  of  the  middle  states,  it  found  its  victims 
utterly  unprepared  for  resistance  or  defense.  There  are  no 
means  of  accurately  knowing  the  number  of  persons  who  were 
slain  on  the  terrible  1 8th  of  August  and  the  succeeding  days. 
If  the  estimates  of  the  best  authorities  are  to  be  received  the 
number  ranged  between  one  and  two  thousand  people  who  were 
massacred  in  cold  blood.  Besides  the  actual  bloodshed,  the 
massacre  resulted,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  total  depopulation 
of  a  territory  larger  than  the  state  of  Vermont. 

Strange  to  say,  when  the  tragedy  was  enacted  it  attracted 
but  little  attention  from  the  people  of  the  United  States. 
Such  reports  as  found  their  way  into  the  newspapers  were  ab 
solutely  unread.  The  great  civil  war,  which  was  then  at  its 
height,  so  preoccupied  the  minds  of  men  that  the  bloody  event, 
which  at  other  times  would  have  thrilled  the  country  with  hor 
ror,  passed  unnoticed.  When  every  newspaper  and  "extra" 
brought  reports  of  battles  in  which  a  hundred  thousand  men 
were  engaged  on  either  side,  and  the  number  of  the  killed  and 
wounded  amounted  to  almost  one  third  of  the  combatants,  the 
lesser  tragedy  was  lost  sight  of  in  the  presence  of  the  greater. 
Now  that  the  smoke  has  cleared  away  from  the  battle-fields  of 
the  war  between  the  States,  we  may  form  a  juster  estimate  of 
the  appalling  dimensions  of  the  Tragedy  of  Minnesota. 


836  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN. 


IREAT  are  the  United  States  of  America !  Infi 
nitely  diversified  are  the  problems  which  con 
front  us.  Turn  back  to  Harper  s  Weekly  for 
the  summer  and  fall  of  1877.  On  one  page 
you  will  find  a  romantic  picture  of  an  Indian 
agency  in  the  heart  of  the  Rocky  Mountains ; 
in  the  corners  are  portraits  of  painted  Indians 
and  of  square-shouldered  army  officers.  There 
is  also  a  picture  of  a  column  of  soldiery,  with 
baggage-train  and  a  few  pieces  of  artillery,  winding  through  the 
mountains ;  of  groups  of  fierce  savages  posted  behind  rocks  and 
engaged  in  a  battle  with  a  little  band  of  United  States  troops,  so 
far  away  down  the  valley  that  the  men  look  like  specks,  and,  but 
for  the  white  smoke  of  their  guns,  would  hardly  be  recognized 
as  human  beings,  much  less  as  men  in  the  very  heat  of  a  bat 
tle  ;  of  a  train  of  overloaded  mules,  picking  their  way  along  the 
narrow  trail  upon  the  rocky  sides  of  a  mountain  range,  and  one 
poor  animal  is  just  losing  his  footing  and  is  tumbling  down  over 
the  precipice  to  the  rocks,  hundreds  of  feet  below.  At  the  bot 
tom  of  the  page  will  be  read  the  legend,  "  The  Nez  Perce  Cam 
paign — General  Howard  in  pursuit  of  Chief  Joseph."  These 
pictures  represent  one  problem,  the  problem  of  the  frontiers, 
of  the  undeveloped  West ;  a  problem,  of  which  the  solution  is 
to  be  wrought  out  amid  the  sublime  solitudes  of  the  wilderness, 
and  in  the  gloomy  shadows  of  unmeasured  mountain  ranges. 
Turning  the  page  of  the  pictorial  newspaper,  we  pass  from 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  837 

the  foaming  rivers,  the  lonely  valleys,  the  craggy  precipices  of 
the  wilderness  to  scenes  laid  in  the  hearts  of  great  cities.  The 
pictures  are  full  of  intense  excitement.  There  are  tall  build 
ings,  wrapped  in  flames,  surrounded  by  crowds  of  riotous  men,, 
preventing  by  force  all  efforts  to  quench  the  flames  which  have 
been  kindled  by  incendiary  torches.  Long  lines  of  locomotive 
engines,  blowing  off  steam  through  their  escape  valves,  stand  on 
tracks,  ready  and  impatient  to  move  the  commerce  of  the  world, 
but  no  engineer  is  in  the  cab  and  no  fireman  on  the  tender.  In 
the  foreground  surge  excited  masses  of  strikers,  ready  to  kill 
the  first  man  who  ventures  to  step  on  the  foot-boards  of  the 
waiting  engines. 

We  see  also  pictures  of  magnificent  depots,  of  splendid  rail 
road  bridges,  and  of  miles  of  loaded  freight  cars  being  destroyed 
by  all-consuming  flames.  On  another  page  is  a  street  scene,  a 
riot.  Dense  throngs  of  angry  men,  black  with  soot  from  the 
furnace  and  the  forge,  bearing  on  their  persons  the  world- wide 
badge  of  toil,  are  engaged  in  a  conflict  in  the  streets  of  a  great 
city  with  soldiers,  who  load  and  fire  into  the  raging  multitude. 
Here  and  there  lie  on  the  cobble-stones  forms  which  are  cold  in 
death.  Some  of  these  are  the  sons  of  labor,  brave  and  honest 
men,  who  all  their  lives  have  been  hard  working  but  respected 
citizens.  They  are  fresh  from  the  factory,  the  shops,  and  the 
engine-room.  At  the  bottom  of  these  pages  we  may  read  the 
legend,  "The  Great  Strike — The  Riots  in  Pittsburg  and  other 
Cities — The  Military  driving  the  Mob — The  Great  Incendiary 
Conflagrations."  These  pictures  present  another  problem ;  a 
problem  of  cities  and  of  civilization,  of  labor  and  capital. 

These  opposite  problems  confronted  us  at  the  same  time,  and 
equally  required  solution.  Each,  for  the  time  being,  was  con 
fronted,  worked  out,  and  ended.  For  neither  of  them,  however, 
was  there  obtained  any  permanent  solution.  The  old  troubles 
will  reappear  in  new  guise.  In  this  chapter  we  tell  the  story 
of  General  Howard's  treatment  of  the  Nez  Perces  problem. 

The  Nez  Perces  are  a  tribe  of  Indians  who  formerly  roamed 


'838  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

at  will  through  the  valleys  pf  northern  Idaho.  Why  they  are 
called  the  Nez  Perces,  or  "  pierced  noses,"  we  do  not  know, 
for  the  nasal  appendages  of  these  Indians  have  no  unusual 
deformity.  In  1863  the  United  States  Government  made  a 
treaty,  which  was  agreed  to  by  about  nine-tenths  of  this  tribe. 
This  immense  majority  went  peaceably  on  a  reservation.  But 
there  were  some  of  the  tribe  who  would  not,  and  never  did, 
agree  to  any  thing.  Of  these  the  principal  chiefs  at  the  time 
-at  which  we  write  were  Joseph,  Whitebird,  Looking  Glass,  and 
Hush-hush-cute.  While  these  malcontents  continued  to  wander 
up  and  down  along  the  valleys  of  the  Clearwater,  the  Salmon, 
and  the  Snake  rivers,  the  government  surveyors,  with  chain  and 
compass,  had  pushed  on  resolutely,  laying  off  the  region  into  an 
endless  checker-board  of  sections,  townships,  and  ranges.  Close 
behind  the  surveyors  came  the  tide  of  immigration.  Hardy 
settlers  built  cabins,  fenced  in  fields,  planted  grain,  and  herded 
stock,  right  in  the  country  which  Joseph  and  his  brethren  had 
claimed  as  their  own. 

For  a  year  or  two  there  had  been  signs  of  trouble.  The 
Indians  grew  sullen.  They  talked  loudly  of  their  rights.  Still 
no  real  outbreak  was  expected.  In  the  spring  of  1877  General 
Howard  was  directed  by  the  War  Department  to  have  a  talk 
with  Joseph,  and  tell  him  that  the  time  had  come  when  he  and 
his  people  must  move  on  to  the  reservation,  and  that  if  he 
would  not  go  through  persuasion,  he  would  be  driven  by  force. 
The  council  was  appointed  to  be  held  at  Fort  Lapwai,  the 
station  of  the  Indian  agency  for  the  Nez  Perce  reservation. 

At  the  time  of  the  war,  the  pictorial  newspapers  gave  a 
view  of  Lapwai.  But  they  utterly  failed  to  give  a  notion 
of  the  loveliness  of  the  valley.  On  either  hand  are  mag 
nificent  ranges  of  mountains.  At  places  the  range  dips  or 
bends  aside,  and  through  the  openings  one  sees  in  the  distance 
other  ranges  of  every  shade  of  purple.  The  valleys,  which 
open  their  smiling  recesses  toward  the  sky,  seem  all  the  fairer, 
all  the  gentler,  all  the  more  peaceful  from  contrast  with 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  839 

the  rugged  mountains.  Lapwai  is  not  really  a  fort.  There  is 
a  hollow  square  on  the  west  of  the  crystalline  river  which  winds 
through  the  valley.  On  one  side  of  the  square  are  the  officer's 
quarters;  on  another,  the  barracks;  on  another,  the  guard-house. 
In  front  of  each  of  these  buildings  marches  solemnly  back 
and  forth  a  uniformed  sentinel.  The  square  is,  in  fact,  a 
parade  ground. 

Here,  on  the  appointed  day,  was  General  Howard,  an  inter 
preter,  and  a  few  other  officers.  As  a  preparation  for  the  coun 
cil,  a  hospital  tent  was  pitched  on  one  side  of  the  parade- 
ground.  The  sides  of  the  tent  were  looped  up,  and  the  flies  at 
either  end  were  stretched  out  on  a  temporary  frame-work.  This 
primitive  pavilion  had  several  advantages.  It  protected  its 
occupants  from  the  sun ;  it  afforded  plenty  of  fresh  air,  a  thing 
much  needed  at  an  Indian  council ;  and  (we  say  it  in  a  whis 
per)  it  made  the  council  easy  of  access  by  the  soldiers  in  case 
treachery  was  attempted. 

Here  in  this  tent  the  handsome  officers  lounged  about,  impa 
tiently  waiting  for  the  Indians.  The  balmy  May  morning, 
with  its  floods  of  sunshine  and  cloudless  sky  arching  the  valley 
from  range  to  range  with  its  azure  canopy,  was  well  advanced 
before  Joseph  and  his  companions  appeared  in  sight,  some  dis 
tance  away.  There  were  about  fifty  of  them  in  the  company, 
all  mounted  on  Indian  ponies,  and  proceeding  slowly  down 
the  valley  in  single  file.  First,  came  a  long  line  of  warriors, 
wrapped  in  red  and  yellow  blankets,  wearing  buckskin  leg 
gings  and  immense  slouch  hats.  Behind  them  came  the 
women  and  children,  their  faces  painted  a  bright  red  and  their 
clothing  consisting  of  the  most  fantastic  garments  and  showy 
decorations. 

The  picturesque  procession  moved  slowly  toward  the  hollow 
square.  As  they  came  nearer,  it  could  be  seen  that  they  were 
unarmed,  except  with  tomahawk  pipes,  which  could  be  used  at 
will  to  smoke  the  peaceful  tobacco  or  to  crush  the  skull  of  an 
enemy.  Just  as  they  reached  the  square  the  leader  turned 


840  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

sharply  to  the  right,  followed  by  the  others,  to  march  around 
the  outside  of  the  inclosure. 

This  proceeding  was  accompanied  by  a  wild  Indian  song, 
sung  with  thrilling  cadence  and  mournful  harmony  in  high, 
shrill,  and  quavering  voices.  The  weird  sound  of  the  song, 
echoed  back  and  forth  among  the  mountains,  caused  an  involun 
tary  shudder  among  the  occupants  of  the  fort.  Men  may  be 
able  to  stifle  every  thrill  of  fear,  but  there  lives  not  the  soul 
which  will  not  sometimes  quiver  as  if  pained,  responsive  to  the 
vibrations  of  some  subtle  and  soul-searching  melody.  The  few 
ladies,  wives  of  the  officers,  huddled  together  in  closer  groups 
inquiring,  "  Do  you  think  Joseph  means  to  fight  ?"  The  officers 
clenched  their  hands  and  breathed  more  rapidly.  The  common 
sentinels  and  soldiers  looked  from  one  to  another  with  a  startled, 
sickish  look  in  their  eyes.  Higher  and  higher  rose  the  song, 
swelling  from  the  first  plaintive  murmurs,  till  it  seemed  like  a 
piercing  and  agonizing  wail.  Suddenly  the  burden  of  the  song 
changed.  It  consisted  no  longer  of  a  wail,  a  cry,  but  of  short, 
sharp,  unmistakable  notes  of  defiance. 

The  circuit  of  the  hollow  square  was  completed,  Joseph  and 
his  principal  men  marched  under  the  canvas  canopy.  But  after 
all  this  preparation  it  seemed  that  the  "talk"  could  not  be  had 
that  day.  White  Bird  was  on  his  way,  said  Joseph,  and  he 
would  not  talk  until  his  friend  arrived.  So  the  meeting 
adjourned  until  the  next  day. 

On  the  following  morning  there  was  the  same  gaudy  proces 
sion  down  the  valley,  the  same  march  around  the  square,  and 
the  same  weird  song  ending  with  notes  of  defiance.  As  the  sound 
died  away,  one  of  the  ladies  said  to  another,  "  I  think  their  song- 
is  more  warlike  and  bolder  than  that  of  yesterday."  It  was  proba 
bly  imagination. 

Once  assembled  under  the  canvas,  the  Indian  agent  through 
;in  interpreter,  explained  patiently  that  the  government  demanded 
that  Joseph,  White  Bird,  and  Hush-hush-cute,  who  were  pres 
ent  this  time  with  their  people,  must  go  on  the  reservation. 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  841 

To  this  the  various  chiefs  made  rather  insolent  replies,  repeal 
ing  much  about  the  earth's  being  their  mother,  and  about  the 
Great  Spirit's  having  given  it  to  the  Indians  for  a  home.  The 
most  dangerous  speaker,  however,  was  an  old  Dreamer.  He 
was  a  sort  of  prophet,  who  taught  that  the  earth,  having  been 
created  by  God  in  its  completeness,  should  not  be  interfered 
with,  disturbed,  or  improved  by  man,  and  that  if  the  Indians 
continued  steadfast  in  that  belief  a  great  leader  would  be  raised 
up  in  the  east,  at  a  single  blast  of  whose  trumpet  all  the  dead 
warriors  would  start  suddenly  into  life,  and  that  the  millions  of 
braves  thus  collected  would  expel  the  white  man  from  the  con 
tinent  of  America,  and  repossess  it  for  their  own  dusky  race. 
The  Dreamer  was  a  person  of  high  importance,  and  his  influence 
among  his  people  was  unbounded. 

As  the  council  proceeded  the  chiefs  became  excited.  "  There 
are  always  two  parties  to  a  dispute.  The  one  that  is  right  will 
come  out  ahead.  We  have  heard  about  a  bargain,  a  trade 
between  some  of  these  Indians  (referring  to  the  treaty  Nez 
Perces)  and  the  white  men  concerning  their  land ;  but  we  belong 
to  the  land  out  of  which  we  came.  Who  gave  Washington  rule 
over  us  ?  You  have  no  right  to  compare  us,  grown  men,  with 
children.  Grown  men  .think  for  themselves.  The  government 
at  Washington  shall  not  think  for  us." 

Such  was  their  temper  that  General  Howard  felt  that  it 
would  be  well  to  have  the  company  of  cavalry  from  Walowa,  and 
one  from  Walla-walla  nearer  at  hand.  The  two  skeleton  com 
panies  of  troops  at  Lapwai  were  outnumbered  five  to  one  by  the 
hordes  of  well-armed  Indians,  who  kept  pouring  in.  So  by 
agreement  there  was  a  further  postponement  of  the  council  till 
the  following  Monday.  On  that  day,  the  old  Dreamer  was  more 
saucy  than  ever,  whereupon  General  Howard  boldly  arrested 
him. 

This  incident  and  the  reports  of  approaching  troops  softened 
the  fierce  temper  of  the  Indians.  "What  makes  me  feel  like 
laughing  this  morning,  General  Howard?"  asked  Joseph  in  a 


842  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

pleasant  voice.  "There  are,"  said  the  general,  "three  kinds 
of  laughter — one  from  fun,  another  from  deceit,  and  another 
from  real  joy."  "  Mine,"  said  the  liar,  "  is  from  real  joy."  So 
the  council  broke  up  with  an  understanding  that  Joseph  and  his 
brethren  were  to  go  on  the  reservation  within  a  month.  Gen 
eral  Howard  and  his  officers  packed  their  baggage,  well  pleased 
at  the  peaceful  prospect,  and  returned  to  Portland,  Oregon. 

Still,  after  thoughtful  consultations,  it  was  decided  that 
Joseph,  securing  allies  from  other  roaming  tribes  along  the 
Columbia  River,  might  change  his  mind.  It  was  important 
to  check  any  such  movement.  So  on  the  30th  of  May  the 
general  again  started  for  the  Indian  country.  He  arrived  at 
Fort  Lapwai,  and  found  the  little  post  as  peaceful  as  the  valley 
in  which-  it  was  located.  Towards  evening  the  officers  were 
sitting  out  in  front  of  their  quarters,  when  a  man  was  seen 
galloping  down  the  valley  in  hot  haste.  He  shortly  reached 
the  post,  sprang  from  his  foaming  steed,  and  delivered  a  letter 
to  Colonel  Perry,  the  commandant.  It  came  from  Mount  Idaho, 
sixty  miles  south-east  of  Lapwai,  and  contained  information 
from  an  intelligent  settler  that  the  Indians  under  Joseph  were 
evidently  preparing  for  hostilities. 

At  early  dawn  a  small  detachment  started  from  Mount  Idaho 
to  collect  information.  At  noon  two  friendly  Indians  came  in 
with  excited  stories  of  the  murder  of  some  settlers.  Later  still, 
another  messenger  arrived,  confirming  the  previous  reports.  The 
idle  little  post  was  transformed  into  a  scene  of  bustling  activity. 
Arms  were  examined,  ammunition  prepared,  horses  brought  in, 
and  pack-saddles  adjusted.  Every  face  wore  a  serious  look,  and 
the  busy  hum  of  earnest  conversation  was  heard  on  every  side. 
In  the  morning  the  officers,  the  ladies  of  the  post,  and  a  num 
ber  of  friendly  Indians  assembled  in  an  excited  group  on  Colo 
nel  Perry's  front  porch.  Messenger  after  messenger  continued 
to  arrive  with  reports  of  Indian  outrages.  Here  is  one  of 
the  letters  received,  all  a-quiver  with  the  excitement  of  the 
occasion : 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  843 

"MOUNT  IDAHO,  8  A.  M.,  June  15,  1877. 

"COMMANDING  OFFICER,  FORT  LAPWAI, — 

"I  have  just  sent  a  dispatch  by  Mr.  West,  half-breed.  Since 
that  was  written  the  wounded  have  come  in, — Mr.  Day,  mor 
tally  ;  Mrs.  Norton,  with  both  legs  broken ;  Moore,  shot  through 
the  hips ;  Norton,  killed  and  left  in  the  road  six  miles  from 
here.  Teams  were  attacked  on  the  road  and  abandoned.  The 
Indians  have  possession  of  the  prairie  and  threaten  Mount 
Idaho.  All  the  people  are  here,  and  we  will  do  the  best  we 
can.  Lose  no  time  in  getting  up  with  a  force.  Stop  the  stage 
and  all  "  through  travelers."  Give  us  relief  and  arms  and  am 
munition.  Chapman  has  got  this  Indian  (the  messenger,  Look 
ing-glass's  brother),  hoping  he  may  get  through.  I  fear  the  peo 
ple  on  Salmon  have  all  been  killed,  as  a  party  was  seen  going 
that  way  last  night.  We  had  a  report  last  night  that  seven 
whites  had  been  killed  on  Salmon.  Notify  the  people  of  Lewis- 
ton.  Hurry  up ;  hurry !  Rely  on  this  Indian's  statement ;  I 
have  known  him  for  a  long  time.  He  is  witn  us. 

"  L.  P.  BROWN." 

"P.  S. — Send  a  dispatch  to  town  for  the  express  not  to 
start  up  unless  heavily  escorted.  Give  the  bearer  a  fresh,  horse, 
and  send  him  back.  CHAPMAN." 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  There  were  about  fifty  men  at  Lap- 
wai.  It  was  unsafe  to  weaken  the  garrison  by  a  single  man. 
Besides,  a  force  of  twenty-five  men  would  be  merely  victims  to 
the  Indian  warriors.  Meanwhile  the  outrages  were  going  on. 
"  Hurry  up ;  hurry !"  Other  troops  were  hundreds  of  miles 
away.  Fortunately  the  news  had  also  reached  Walla-Walla, 
and  sixty  cavalry-men  arrived  at  Lapwai.  These,  with  thirty 
men  from  the  garrison,  all  mounted,  and  commanded  by  Colonel 
Perry,  started  off  into  the  darkness  along  the  muddy  mountain 
road.  General  Howard  remained  at  Lapwai  to  hurry  forward 
re-enforcements. 

The  men  who  went  to  the  front,  sustained  by  the  high  ex 
citement  of  the  hour,  went  forward  to  their  fate  with  steady 

47 


« 


844  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

march  and  unflinching  hearts.  But  those  who  were  left  behind 
had  no  such  exhilaration.  For  them  there  was  restlessness, 
impatience,  and  fever.  "  To  remain  at  home  and  wait  amid  the 
pulsations  of  extreme  anxiety — who  but  woman  is  equal  to  the 
task  ?"  writes  General  Howard.  There  was  one  lady  still  at 
the  fort,  the  newly  married  wife  of  Lieutenant  Theller.  Hard, 
indeed,  was  it  for  her  to  see  the  fond  form,  so  stalwart,  so  con 
fident,  ride  away,  leaving  her,  only  one  thought  burning  in  her 
heart — that  of  his  return. 

As  the  little  command  toiled  forward  along  the  eighty  miles 
of  mountain  trail,  let  us  see  what  had  really  been  happening. 
Joseph's  band  had  appeared  near  Mount  Idaho,  and  on  the 
afternoon  of  June  13th  a  party  of  Indians  stealthily  advanced 
to  a  small  cabin  on  Salmon  River.  This  humble  structure 
was  the  home  of  Richard  Divine,  an  old  man  who,  for  some 
reason  unknown,  had  forsaken  the  busy  haunts  of  men  and 
built  for  himself  this  lodge  in  the  wilderness,  which  he  occupied 
alone.  Old  Divine  was  quickly  killed.  It  was  at  sunset,  and 
the  ruthless  savages  made  off,  leaving  his  unburied  body  on  the 
doorstep  of  his  cabin. 

From  this  place  the  Indians  proceeded  to  the  cabin  of 
Henry  Elfers,  Robert  Bland,  and  Henry  Becknoge.  These,  too, 
were  killed,  and  their  horses  taken  by  the  murderers.  Samuel 
Benedict  was  out  looking  for  his  cattle.  A  bullet  was  planted 
in  his  side.  He  managed  to  remount  his  horse,  and  the  faith 
ful  animal  bore  him  at  the  top  of  its  speed  to  the  cabin  where 
he  lived.  He  had  lain  there  wounded  and  helpless  for  an  hour 
or  two,  when  a  rude  hand  burst  open  his  door,  and  a  terrible 
tomahawk  was  struck  into  his  skull. 

Besides  these  outrages  others,  many  others,  of  the  settlers, 
pioneers  of  civilization,  fell  victims  to  their  own  courage.  Mrs. 
Norton,  Hill  Norton,  Miss  Bowers,  Joseph  Moore,  John  Cham 
berlain,  with  his  wife  and  two  children,  proprietors  of  the 
Cottonwood  House,  a  small  frontier  inn,  learning  of  the  danger 
from  a  passing  messenger  who  had  started  to  Lapwai,  but  had 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  845 

been  attacked  by  Indians  and  driven  back,  hastily  prepared  for 
flight  to  Mount  Idaho,  eighteen  miles  away.  It  was  ten  o'clock 
at  night,  and  they  were  all  in  bed  when  the  alarm  reached  them. 
Two  of  the  party  rode  horseback  and  the  rest  were  packed  into 
a  farm  wagon.  In  this  order  they  took  up  their  journey  with 
out  delay.  Ten  miles,  more  than  half  the  distance,  had  been 
made  when  they  heard  behind  them,  clattering  down  the  stony 
trail,  the  hoofs  of  hurrying  horses. 

On  they  pressed  in  their  lumbering  coach,  but  the  pursuers 
gained  rapidly.  They  began  to  fire  on  the  little  party  of  refu 
gees.  Norton  and  Moore,  who  were  on  horses,  were  each  terri 
bly  wounded,  and  had  to  be  taken  into  the  wagon.  In  a  few 
moments  the  balls,  which  whistled  over  the  party  lying  flat  in 
the  wagon,  without  injury,  struck  and  killed  the  horses  com 
posing  the  wagon  team.  Further  progress  was  impossible.  The 
party  sprang  out  of  the  wagon  in  an  attempt  to  escape  on  foot. 
Miss  Bowers  and  little  Hill  Norton  got  away  in  the  darkness. 
The  Chamberlain  family  fled  in  another  direction,  but  were 
discovered  and  pursued.  The  husband  and  father  was  shot 
dead.  The  boy  was  murdered,  according  to  the  mother's  state 
ment,  by  having  his  head  placed  beneath  the  knees  of  a  pow 
erful  Indian  and  crushed.  The  other  child  was  torn  from  its 
mother,  a  piece  of  its  tongue  cut  out,  and  a  knife  run  quite 
through  its  neck,  and  left  sticking  there.  Mrs.  Chamberlain 
was  repeatedly  outraged  by  the  Indians,  and  received  severe 
injuries.  The  remainder  of  the  party,  despairing  of  escape  by 
flight,  had  undertaken  to  conceal  themselves  behind  and  beneath 
the  dead  horses.  Here  Norton  was  killed.  Moore  was  shot 
through  the  hips,  Day  through  the  shoulder  and  leg,  and 
Mrs.  Norton  through  both  legs.  Day  and  Moore  subse 
quently  died. 

The  Indians  were  frantic  with  delight.  "  See  this  fine  horse, 
this  rifle,  saddle,  and  these  good  clothes !  Why  remain  here 
talking  forever  ?  The  war  has  begun !  I  am  mad  !  I  have 
killed  our  enemies  !  There  is  blood  !  Come  on ;  there  is  plenty 


846  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

I 

of  every  thing,  if  you  only  work !"  Such  was  the  speech  of  a 
chief  to  his  braves. 

The  Salmon  is  a  torrent  with  mountain  shores.  White  Bird 
is  a  creek  flowing  into  the  Salmon  through  a  canon  which  it 
has  channeled  out  for  itself  transversely  through  the  mountain. 
A  narrow  trail  leads  down  the  side  of  this  canon,  commencing 
at  its  head  where  the  cut  first  begins,  and  winding  down  by  a 
long  descent  to  the  rolling  country  which  forms  the  bottom  of 
the  canon. 

Here,  at  the  head  of  this  trail,  Colonel  Perry's  command 
halted  an  hour  before  dawn  on  the  morning  of  the  17th  of 
June.  As  the  sweet  mountain  air  was  transfused  with  a  mellow 
radiance  from  the  coming  day,  and  the  dark  abysses  of  the 
canon  stood  forth  in  the  sunlight  stripped  of  their  blacker 
shadows,  there  could  be  seen,  four  miles  away,  on  the  bottom 
of  the  vast  ravine,  the  Indian  camp.  As  the  officers  scruti 
nized  the  scene  with  their  field-glasses,  now  and  then  some 

0 

sleepy  warrior  would  come  out  of  his  lodge  wrapped  in  his 
blanket  and,  rubbing  his  sleepy  eyes,  would  begin  to  search  for 

his  horse. 
• 

The  sunlight,  which  at  first  had  tinged  the  highest  peaks  with 

ruddy  glow,  until  they  seemed  like  pyramids  of  fire  against  the 
morning  sky,  gradually  painted  the  broad  edges  and  sloping  sur 
faces  of  the  west  side  of  the  canon  with  warmth  and  beauty. 
At  that  moment  Joseph  himself  came  out  of  the  principal  lodge. 
His  quick  eye  instantly  discovered  the  group  of  horsemen  stand 
ing  far  up  at  the  head  of  the  canon  outlined  against  the  sky 
like  figures  carved  in  ebony.  "  Get  the  white  man's  glass  1 
Tell  White  Bird.  Horses !  The  soldiers  are  here,"  he  shouted 
in  the  sharp  accents  of  command. 

Shortly  busy  hands  were  at  work  pulling  down  the  lodges 
and  loading  the  mules.  The  women  and  children  were  hurriedly 
conveyed  across  the  Salmon  River.  The  warriors  quickly  hid 
themselves  behind  rocks  and  knolls.  White  Bird,  with  his 
band  took  a  position  behind  a  ridge  somewhat  in  advance  of  the 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  847 

others  and  on  the  right  of  the  trail.  On  came  the  column  of 
devoted  troops  down  the  side  of  the  canon  toward  the  fatal 
spot.  Every  rider  held  his  glittering  carbine  ready  for  instant 
use.  Not  an  Indian  was  to  be  seen. 

Suddenly,  as  they  were  about  to  reach  the  ground  lately 
occupied  by  the  Indian  camp,  dark  and  hideous  faces  popped 
out  everywhere,  from  behind  stones  and  out  of  gulches  and 
ravines.  At  the  same  moment  White  Bird's  flanking  party 
appeared  two  hundred  yards  to  their  left. 

The  troops  quickly  formed  in  line,  each  man  seeking  some 
cover  behind  which  to  hide.  The  Indians  greatly  outnumbering 
the  whites,  continually  overlapped  the  latter's  flanks.  The 
troops  extended  their  line,  making  it  thinner  and  thinner.  For 
ten  minutes  they  held  their  ground.  Then  a  band  of  Indian 
flankers  on  the  left  suddenly  forced  the  men  to  fall  back.  The 
soldiers,  catching  the  alarm,  instantly  deserted  their  hiding  places 
in  the  rocky  canon,  and  ran  backward  toward  higher  ground 
in  the  rear.  But  they  could  not  stop  here.  The  men  were 
falling  on  every  hand,  while  swarms  of  savages  were  already 
surrounding  the  spot  and  pouring  in  deadly  volleys.  The  air 
was  full  of  noise  and  smoke,  and  everywhere  was  heard  the 
sharp  commands  of  officers  and  the  excited  cries  of  the  men. 

Back  they  fled,  faster  and  faster,  stopping  every  minute  or 
so  in  a  vain  attempt  to  rally  behind  some  knoll,  only  to  be  driven 
to  seek  other  refuge.  White  Bird's  flanking  party  dashed  out 
of  a  little  transverse  ravine,  heading  off  the  men  just  as  they 
reached  the  foot  of  the  narrow  trail.  Here  there  was  a  desper 
ate  conflict.  Such  as  could  do  so  dashed  through  the  midst  of 
the  Indians  at  the  top  of  their  horses'  speed,  and  made  their 
way  up  the  trail  toward  the  head  of  the  canon.  The  rest  were 
left  dead  or  dying  in  the  lonely  White  Bird  Canon.  Among 
those  who  fell  was  Lieutenant  Theller.  It  became  General 
Howard's  duty,  when  the  remnant  of  the  men  made  their  way 
back  to  Lapwai,  to  inform  the  young  wife  of  her  husband's  fate. 
"  I  endeavored  to  control  myself  and  break  the  tidings  gently. 


848  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

But  Mrs.  Theller  read  it  in  my  face  before  I  could  speak,  and 
words  had  no  place.     '  Oh  my  husband  !' " 

Such  was  the  fate  of  the  first  expedition,  and  the  worst 
apprehensions  of  danger  to  the  settlers  from  the  victorious 
savages  were  indulged  in.  The  work  had  now  to  be  begun 
anew.  Meanwhile  every  possible  effort  had  been  making  to 
secure  troops.  One  messenger  had  been  dispatched  to  Fort  Wal- 
lowa,  with  orders  for  two  cavalry  companies  to  march  to  Lap 
wai,  stopping  neither  day  nor  night.  Similar  orders  were  sent 
to  the  infantry  at  Walla-walla  one  hundred  and  ten  miles  distant. 
From  this  point  also,  being  the  nearest  line  of  telegraph,  dis 
patches  were  sent  to  San  Francisco  for  twenty-five  scouts,  and 
to  Portland  for  three  months'  supplies. 

This  done,  the  only  thing  was  to  wait.  Slow  indeed  seemed 
the  advance  of  the  expected  succor.  Slow,  although  the  mes 
sengers  had  ridden  day  and  night  at  a  break-neck  rate,  killing 
two  horses  on  the  way;  slow,  although  not  a  moment  was  lost 
in  getting  the  troops  under  way,  and  not  an  hour's  rest  was  had 
as  they  hurried  forward.  Yet  this  took  days  and  days.  Rumors 
of  the  terrible  defeat  reached  Lapwai,  and  yet  no  re-enforcements 
were  in  sight.  The  broken  fragments  of  the  little  army,  which 
had  gone  forth,  fell  back  bleeding  and  stricken,  and  yet  there 
were  no  others  to  take  their  place.  Four  days  after  the  news 
of  the  disaster  amid  the  shadows  of  White  Bird  Canon,  there 
were  but  two  hundred  soldiers  at  Lapwai.  Besides  these  there 
were  twenty  volunteers. 

Further  delay  for  re-enforcements  was  desirable,  yet  impos 
sible.  The  little  band  of  men,  cavalry  and  infantry,  together 
with  an  old  mountain  howitzer  and  two  Gatling  guns,  are  drawn 
up  in  marching  order.  The  train  of  pack-mules,  with  their  im 
mense  loads  of  ammunition  and  provision,  move  restlessly  back 
and  forward  in  the  parade-ground.  The  trained  white  mare, 
with  the  tinkling  bell  attached  to  her  neck,  stands  thoughtful 
and  attentive,  ready  to  lead  her  restless  followers  along  the 
stony  trail.  "  The  moment  of  starting  is  solemn.  The  air  is 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  849 

full  of  rumors.  The  few  daring  messengers,  bearing  news  of 
the  defeat,  had  skulked  through  by  night  to  Lapwai.  The  road 
wound  through  ravines  and  over  mountains.  It  passed  the 
mouths  of  black  and  awful  canons  and  lay  for  a  long  distance' 
over  a  range  covered  with  rugged  forests.  The  whole  route  is 
full  of  traps,  pitfalls,  and  natural  ambuscades." 

The  last  farewells  are  said.  The  last  mule-pack  is  adjusted. 
The  last  red-shirted  artillery-man  takes  his  stand  by  his  gun. 
There  is  a  moment  of  quiet.  Suddenly  the  commanding  officer 
shouts  "Attention !"  and  then,  a  moment  later,  "  Column,  march !" 
Every  man  steps  off  with  the  right  foot.  The  cavalry  are  in 
front.  The  proud  bell-mare,  with  her  cavalcade  of  mules,  stub 
born  to  all  else,  but  to  her  yielding  the  most  perfect  obedience, 
follow,  and  behind  them,  in  column  of  fours,  come  the  infantry. 

At  half  past  one  o'clock  the  troops  reached  the  deserted 
Cottonwood  House.  Doors  and  windows  were  open  wide.  Im 
mediately  after  the  departure  of  the  ill-fated  Norton  family  and 
their  companions,  the  Indians  had  ransacked  the  entire  house. 
Everywhere  were  found  broken  chairs,  open  drawers,  and  ruined 
furniture.  In  their  senseless  destruction  the  Indians  had  taken 
the  very  flour,  sugar,  and  salt,  and  thrown  it  around  on  the 
floors.  Inside  was  this  scene  of  desolation  and  tragedy;  out 
side,  a  country  as  well  watered  as  Eden  and  richer  than  any 
garden  in  the  world.  Thus  does  nature,  great,  calm,  and  peace 
ful,  offer  her  balm  to  heart-sick  and  suffering  humanity. 

In  time  the  troops  reached  the  head  of  the  blood-stained 
White  Bird  Canon.  The  Indians  were  no  longer  there.  Slowly 
and  cautiously  the  soldiers  made  their  way  down  the  narrow 
trail  toward  the  trap  into  which  Perry's  command  had  fallen. 
There  they  found  the  bodies  of  the  brave  boys,  stripped  of  their 
clothing,  and  lying  unburied  beneath  the  summer's  sun.  Rev 
erent  hands  wrapped  the  dead  in  soldiers'  blankets,  and  buried 
them  on  the  spot  where  they  had  fallen. 

Meanwhile  from  the  top  of  a  lofty  mountain  scouts  had  dis 
covered  Joseph  and  his  people  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  swift 


850  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

running  Salmon  River,  behind  some  curious  hills.  "  The  leader 
ship  of  Joseph,"  says  General  Howard,  "was  indeed  remarkable." 
The  whites  must  cross  the  rapid  river  in  front  of  him.  He  could 
either  oppose  this  crossing,  or  retreat  to  the  rear,  or  turn  south 
up  the  Salmon,  or  north,  and  down  that  river.  In  case  he  chose 
the  latter  course,  he  would  be  marching  toward  Mount  Idaho  on 
a  line  east  of  the  Salmon  River,  parallel  with  that  along  which 
the  soldiers  in  their  march  had  come.  This  would  bring  him 
between  the  soldiers  and  the  settlements. 

The  soldiers  made  ready  to  cross  the  Salmon  River,  an 
undertaking  of  great  danger,  both  by  reason  of  the  furious  flow 
of  the  torrent  and  of  the  red  enemies  on  the  further  side. 
During  the  night  Joseph  fled,  taking  the  course  down  the  Sal 
mon  River  and  toward  the  settlements.  The  troops  were 
ordered  to  cross  the  river  and  commence  pursuit.  At  the  first 
attempt  the  raft  was  swept  away.  It  was  determined  to 
retrace  their  steps  along  the  course  they  had  come  and  head 
off  Joseph  should  he  attempt  to  cross  the  river  toward  the 
settlements. 

Leaving  the  main  force  for  a  moment,  let  us  turn  to  the 
little  detachment  which  had  been  sent  back  under  Captain 
Whipple  to  look  after  Looking  Glass,  who  had  not  yet  joined 
the  malcontents.  Somewhere  near  Mount  Idaho  Whipple  dis 
covered  the  enemy.  He  sent  forward  Lieutenant  Rains,  with 
ten  picked  men  and  a  scout,  to  ascertain  the  strength  of  the 
Indian  forces.  Following  this  advance-guard  at  a  distance  of 
a  mile  with  his  main  force  the  sound  of  firing  was  heard  at 
the  front.  Hurrying  forward  Whipple  and  his  command  were 
horrified  to  find  that  Rains  and  EVERY  MAN  in  his  detachment 
had  been  killed. 

All  this  took  place  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  desolate 
Cottonwood  House,  where,  on  the  5th  of  July,  the  men  were 
encamped.  Toward  noon  two  mounted  men  were  seen  ap 
proaching  the  camp  at  full  speed.  "  Some  citizens,"  said  they, 
"a  couple  of  miles  away  on  the  Mount  Idaho  road,  are  sur- 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  851 

rounded  by  Indians  and  being  cut  to  pieces."  The  little  com 
pany  of  troops  at  once  set  forward  in  double  quick  toward  the 
scene  of  conflict.  The  victims  were  a  company  of  seventeen 
volunteers.  Several  had  already  fallen,  but  on  the  approach  of 
Whipple's  soldiers  the  Indians  galloped  off  and  were  lost  to 
sight  behind  the  hills. 

It  was  the  llth  of  July  before  Howard  with  his  main  force 
again  caught  sight  of  Joseph.  The  troops  were  on  a  high  bluff 
overlooking  the  Clearwater  River.  The  hostiles  were  discov 
ered  below  on  either  side  of  the  stream,  a  position  from  which 
they  were  quickly  driven  by  showers  of  balls  from  the  Gatling 
guns.  For  some  distance  down  the  stream,  on  the  side  occu 
pied  by  the  soldiers,  there  was  a  rough,  rocky  plateau  termi 
nating  in  a  bluff  overlooking  a  large  ravine  or  canon,  leading 
up  from  the  river.  The  Indians'  attempt  was  to  escape  from 
between  the  high,  perpendicular  walls  along  either  side  of  the 
river  through  the  opening  made  by  this  canon.  They  were, 
in  fact,  just  hurrying  up  the  ravine  when  the  whites  discovered 
the  movement  and  sought  to  prevent  it.  A  fierce  battle  fol 
lowed.  The  Indian  sharp-shooters,  planted  behind  lofty  rocks, 
picked  off  the  soldiers,  while  the  latter  fired  into  the  ravine 
from  the  bluff  or  made  charges  down  the  slopes  of  smaller 
ravines  leading  into  the  main  one.  At  nightfall  the  position  of 
the  two  forces  was  unchanged. 

On  the  following  day  the  battle  was  renewed.  About  half- 
past  two  a  furious  charge  was  made  into  the  ravine.  For  a 
few  minutes  the  Indians  fought  desperately  from  behind  their 
rocky  covers,  but  at  length  gave  way  and  fled  in  all  directions, 
bounding  from  rock  to  rock  through  the  ravines  or  plunging 
into  the  river  out  of  sight  only  to  reappear  when  its  rapid  cur 
rent  had  borne  them  out  of  gunshot.  The  Indian  camp,  with 
all  its  blankets,  buffalo  robes,,  cooking  utensils,  and  provisions, 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  victors. 

Joseph  and  his  band  fled  toward  the  east.  Nothing  remained 
but  pursuit.  Without  pausing  for  a  rest,  General  Howard  and 


852  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

his  troops,  now  four  hundred  in  number,  plunged  into  the  moun 
tains  and  wilderness,  only  to  be  heard  of  by  the  outside  world 
at  occasional  intervals.  Now  they  hurried  on  by  steep  and  sKp- 
pery  paths  toward  the  crest  of  a  mountain  range.  Now,  along 
crooked  and  narrow  trails,  deep  with  slimy  mud,  they  slipped 
and  floundered  for  hours  at  a  time.  Sometimes  the  trail  led 
them  into  vast  masses  of  fallen  timber,  inextricably  interlaced 
so  that  no  passage  could  be  had  until  a  way  had  been  chopped 
with  axes.  In  crossing  from  range  to  range,  the  descent  and 
ascent  were  often  so  precipitous  that  no  human  being  could 
make  the  journey.  In  such  cases  they  kept  to  the  "  Hog  Back," 
a  narrow,  crooked  ridge  connecting  the  two  ranges. 

Along  these  almost  impassable  paths  the  Indians  had  fled. 
They  had  jammed  their  ponies  between  rocks  and  over  trees, 
leaving  many  a  splotch  of  blood  and  dead  animal  to  mark  their 
way.  Meanwhile  a  tall  messenger  reached  the  camp  of  the 
pursuers.  General  Gibbon,  from  Helena,  Montana,  had  started 
west  with  two  hundred  men,  and  sent  an  urgent  call  for  re- 
enforcements.  Joseph  was  now  between  the  two  forces,  one 
from  the  east,  the  other  pursuing  him  from  the  west.  A  ser 
geant  named  Sutherland  with  an  Indian  guide  was  at  once  dis 
patched  on  the  strongest  horse  in  the  command  to  inform  Gibbon 
of  the  progress  of  the  pursuers.  His  journey  was  solitary  and 
dangerous;  he  was  to  rest  neither  by  night  nor  day.  Once  he 
came  to  a  perpendicular  mountain  blocking  his  way.  The  trail 
led  along  a  narrow  shelf  in  the  side  of  the  precipice,  covered 
with  loose  rocks,  and  scarcely  eighteen  inches  wide.  Below  him 
yawned  an  awful  abyss,  hundreds  of  feet  in  depth.  Dismount 
ing,  the  white  man  and  his  guide  slowly  and  cautiously  led  their 
sure-footed  animals  around  this  narrow  pathway,  without  slip 
ping  off  the  shelving  rock,  till,  at  last,  they  reached  the  other 
side.  It  had  taken  half  the  night  to  make  the  passage.  The 
Indian  guide  soon  deserted  Sutherland,  but  the  latter  pressed  on 
his  way,  lame  and  sore,  bearing  the  news  to  General  Gibbon. 

Meanwhile  the  two  hundred  cavalry,  pressing  forward  to  co- 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  853 

operate  with  General  Gibbon,  had  left  the  infantry  far  behind. 
As  the  days  progressed  it  became  evident  that  even  this  would 
not-  suffice.  Twenty  men,  on  the  strongest  horses  in  the  com 
pany,  were  detached  to  hurry  forward  in  advance  of  the  others. 
Soon  they  met  messengers  carrying  news  of  a  battle,  which  had 
been  fought  between  Joseph  and  General  Gibbon's  troops.  On 
the  llth  of  August  the  squad  of  picked  cavalry-men,  with  Gen 
eral  Howard  at  their  head,  galloped  into  the  fortified  camp  of 
General  Gibbon.  On  the  previous  day  they  had  had  a  severe 
engagement  with  the  enemy,  losing  a  howitzer  and  about  thirty 
officers  and  men.  Again  the  wily  Joseph  had  escaped  from  the 
grasp  of  his  pursuers.  It  remained  only  to  again  begin  the 
chase.  Almost  every  hour  some  panic-stricken  settlers  met  the 
troops  with  wild  reports  of  outrages  and  alarms.  The  cry  was> 
"  Hurry,  hurry,  hurry  !" 

On  the  night  of  the  19th  of  August,  1877,  General  Howard's 
command  encamped  in  a  large  grassy  meadow.  The  night  was 
starlight.  Nothing  could  be  heard  in  the  camp  but  the  regular 
footfall  of  a  sentinel,  or  a  noise  among  the  animals.  Suddenly 
a  terrific  roar  of  musketry,  mingled  with  terrible  yells,  burst 
upon  the  startled  camp.  The  men  were  instantly  upon  their 
feet,  adjusting  accouterments,  and  searching  in  the  darkness  for 
their  guns. 

How  had  the  Indians  approached  so  near  without  discovery  ? 
The  shrewd  Joseph  had  drilled  a  band  of  them  to  march  by 
fours,  keeping  steady  step.  In  the  darkness  this  company  ad 
vanced  to  the  very  lines  of  the  camp,  being  mistaken  by  the 
sentinels  for  a  returning  detachment  of  their  own  troops,  which 
had  been  out  on  special  duty.  In  the  confusion  of  the  moment 
the  mules  broke  loose  and  fled. 

The  Indians  did  not  press  their  attack.  The  pursuit  was- 
therefore  not  ended.  Within  two  or  three  days  more,  it  became 
impossible  to  proceed.  The  stout  army  shoes  with  which  the 
men  had  started  out  were  now  shapeless  masses  of  worn  leather. 
Most  of  the  men  were  barefooted.  Their  uniforms  torn  and 


•854  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ruined  by  the  rough  journey  through  the  mountains,  had  become 
rags  and  were  held  together  by  strings.  The  blankets  were 
falling  to  pieces,  while  the  nights  were  becoming  exceedingly 
cold.  What  could  be  done  ?  A  halt  was  ordered.  General 
Howard  and  a  companion  had  a  team  hitched  to  a  rough  lumber 
wagon,  and  started  on  a  gallop,  over  a  country  literally  covered 
with  bowlders  of  every  size  and  shape,  toward  Virginia  City, 
seventy  miles  away.  When  the  rough,  mining  town  was  reached 
the  traders  were  made  supremely  happy.  All  the  shoes,  cloth 
ing,  blankets,  and  provisions  in  the  place  were  bought  up. 

On  his  return  to  the  camp  with  welcome  supplies,  General 
Howard  says,  "We  found  telegrams  from  the  war  department 
like  the  following :  '  Where  Indians  can  subsist,  the  army  can 
live ;  continue  the  pursuit.  If  you  are  tired,  general,  put  in  a 
younger  man  and  return  to  Oregon,  but  the  troops  must  go 
on!'"  The  army  did  go  on,  on  toward  the  south,  on  until  the 
wonderful  Geyser  landscape,  "with  its  vast  seas  of  almost  bar 
ren  sulphur  crust,  was  reached."  Looking  out  over  the  waste 
expanse,  the  men  discovered  a  black  object,  a  speck.  An  hour's 
march  enabled  them  to  discover  that  the  object  moved.  Another 
hour,  and  they  discovered  that  it  had  the  semblance  of  a  human 
being,  a  man.  He  was  breathless,  hatless,  almost  naked,  and 
nearly  starved.  His  feet  were  wrapped  in  rags.  His  face  had 
the  wild  aspect  of  a  maniac.  His  hair  and  beard,  long  and  di 
sheveled,  made  him  look  like  a  wild  man.  His  talk  was  almost 
unintelligible. — "  Indians,  0  God !  I  got  away.  0  Heaven, 
the  rest  are  killed,  all  killed."  Continually  repeating  these 
words,  he  varied  them  only  by  vague  and  incoherent  mut- 
te  rings. 

Farther  on,  the  troops  picked  up  another  man.  He  was 
«hot  through  both  cheeks.  The  summer  sun  had  scorched  the 
wound,  and  inflammation  had  so  swollen  and  discolored  the  sur 
rounding  flesh  that  the  poor  man's  face  had  lost  every  aspect 
of  a  human  countenance.  His  head,  bloody  and  misshapen, 
looked  like  that  of  a  monster.  Swarms  of  flies  gathered  upon 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS   BRETHREN.  855 

the  wounded  parts.  The  man  could  not  speak  a  word,  but 
could  communicate  with  his  rescuers  only  by  means  of  a  few 
agonized  signs. 

Not  far  away  was  found  a  third  unfortunate.  He  was  twice 
wounded,  but  still  was  able  to  talk  intelligently.  He  was 
a  lawyer.  His  name  was  Cowan.  He  with  his  wife,  sister- 
in-law,  and  children,  together  with  four  or  five  gentlemen, 
including  one  or  two  trusty  guides,  had  been  on  a  pleasure  trip 
through  this  wonderful  region.  The  novelty  of  travel  in  covered 
wagons  had  been  delightful.  One  morning,  little  dreaming  of 
danger,  they  were  suddenly  attacked.  The  travelers  fought  as 
well  as  they  could.  In  vain.  Besides  the  three  men  which  had 
been  found,  the  rest  of  the  party  had  been  killed,  with  the 
exception  of  two  ladies,  who  were  taken  prisoner. 

On  the  9th  of  September,  messengers  brought  word  that 
General  Sturgis  with  a  strong  force  of  cavalry  was  coming  from 
the  south.  Joseph  was  now  between  the  two  forces.  Could 
the  Indian  chieftain  again  escape  ?  Yes,  this  man  or  savage,  with 
a  genius  for  war  which  would  have  made  him  eminent  among 
the  military  leaders  of  the  age,  made  a  feint  toward  the  west, 
fooling  Sturgis,  and  sending  the  latter  off  on  a  wild  goose  chase, 
while  he  and  his  people,  under  cover  of  a  dense  forest,  made 
their  way  into  a  narrow  and  slippery  canon.  This  was  im 
mensely  deep.  The  high,  narrow  walls  were  but  twenty  feet 
apart.  Down  into  this  dark  canon  at  a  practicable  point  slipped 
and  floundered  the  cavalry  and  infantry.  It  was  a  strange 
sight,,  as  the  column  wound  along  the  bottom  of  the  defile,  men, 
horses,  pack  mules,  and  artillery,  with  only  a  narrow  ribbon  of 
sky  just  above  them.  All  in  vain.  Joseph  escaped  again. 

A  junction  was  soon  formed  with  Sturgis,  and  the  latter's 
fresh  cavalry  at  once  hurried  forward  in  the  unending  pursuit. 
On  the  evening  of  the  13th  of  September,  word  reached  General 
Howard  that  a  battle  was  being  fought.  Taking  fifty  cavalry 
men  he  at  once  hurried  forward  in  the  bitter  cold  and  darkness 
of  the  swamps.  "At  sunrise,"  says  he,  "we  crossed  the  Yellow- 


856  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  ANDt  ROMANCES. 

stone,  and  by  half  past  ten  reached  the  battle-field.  It  was 
the  most  horrible  of  places,  sage  brush  and  dirt,  and  only  alka 
line  water,  and  very  little  of  that!  Dead  horses  were  strewn 
about  and  other  relics  of  the  battle-field.  A  few  wounded  men 
and  the  dead  were  there.  To  all  this  admixture  of  disagree 
able  things  was  added  a  cold,  raw  wind  that  unobstructed  swept 
over  the  country." 

Joseph  again  got  away.  Sturgis  was  already  twenty  miles 
beyond  the  battle-field,  but  every  hour  the  pursuers  were  losing 
ground.  The  Indians  were  running  night  and  day.  They  were 
now  moving  directly  north,  through  the  heart  of  Montana, 
having  traveled  more  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  due 
east  of  the  region  where  the  pursuit  had  begun,  while  the  jour 
ney  actually  accomplished  had  been  more  than  six  times  the  dis 
tance.  The  British  frontier  was  but  a  hundred  miles  away. 
To  reach  that  line  of  safety  Joseph  was  straining  every  nerve. 
It  was  evident  that  the  pursuers  could  never  overtake  him. 

There  was  yet  one  hope.  Days  before,  a  messenger  had 
embarked  in  a  canoe  and  started  down  the  .Yellowstone  River 
to  Fort  Keough,  sixty  miles  from  the  Dakota  boundary,  to 
apprise  General  Miles,  who  was  in  command  at  that  point,  of 
the  situation.  The  hope  was  that  Miles  would  at  once  set  out 
in  a  diagonal  line  to  the  north-west  and  head  off  Joseph  before 
he  reached  the  British  frontier.  Meanwhile,  General  Howard 
kept  on  after  the  fugitives.  He  says,  "I  in  my  heart,  earnestly 
petitioned  for  God's  help,  expressing  a  sentiment  that  I  hope 
was  sincere :  '  If  thou  wilt  grant  my  request,  do  so,  I  beseech 
thee,  even  at  the  expense  of  another's  receiving  the  credit  of 
the  expedition.' ' 

At  last  two  messengers  were  seen  approaching  in  hot  haste. 
They  brought  word  that  Joseph  had  crossed  the  Missouri  at 
Cow  Island,  while  Miles  had  crossed  it  twenty  miles  below,  and 
was  still  pressing  forward  to  intercept  the  enemy.  Of  his  move 
ment  Joseph  was  yet  in  ignorance.  Another  messenger  came, 
a  curious  and  solitary  frontiersman,  known  as  Slippery  Dick. 


JOSEPH  AND  HIS  BRETHREN.  859 

He  reported  that  just  inside  the  British  dominions,  not  fifty 
miles  away,  was  the  great  chieftain,  Sitting  Bull,  with  twelve 
hundred  warriors.  Joseph  was  making  his  way  toward  that 
refuge.  On  the  4th  of  October,  General  Howard,  with  a 
small  detachment,  suddenly  came  within  sight  of  General 
Miles' s  camp. 

The  most  remarkable  series  of  events  had  taken  place. 
Joseph,  ignorant  of  Miles's  proximity,  had  encamped  near  the 
mouth  of  a  ravine.  The  American  commander,  hurling  his  men 
upon  the  enemy  with  terrific  force,  drove  the  Indians  into  the 
ravine.  In  a  short  time  all  escape  from  the  ravine  was  cut  off. 
Yet,  penned  up  in  this  death-trap,  encumbered  by  women  and 
children,  his  braves  sick,  wounded,  lamed,  and  dying  from  the 
hardships  of  the  awful  chase,  Joseph  bravely  proceeded  to 
erect  intrenchments  and  prepare  for  a  siege.  In  a  few  days, 
however,  he  surrendered. 

By  his  performances  he  became  entitled  to  be  recognized  as 
one  of  the  remarkable  men  of  the  age.  One  more  day's  march 
would  have  placed  him  inside  the  British  dominions.  For  four 
months  he  had  eluded  his  pursuers,  having  traveled  more  than 
fifteen  hundred  miles  through  the  wildest,  rockiest,  and  most 
mountainous  region  in  America.  He  had  crossed  ranges,  leaped 
canons,  and  swam  mountain  torrents ;  all  this  while  carrying 
with  him,  on  this  remarkable  flight,  the  women,  children,  and 
property  of  his  tribe.  He  had  been  pursued  altogether  by  four 
armies,  any  one  of  which  far  outnumbered  his  force.  He  had 
fought  five  battles  against  an  enemy  supplied  with  all  the 
resources  of  modern  warfare,  and  each  time  he  had  been  prac 
tically  victorious.  Had  he  had  the  least  suspicion  of  Miles's 
approach,  it  is  evident  that  his  fertile  genius  would  have  eluded 
his  enemies  once  more,  and  have  been  able  to  laugh  at  all 
their  toil. 

While  General  Miles  stepped  in  at  the  last  moment  and 
carried  off  the  fruit  of  all  the  labors  of  the  pursuers  by  a  brill 
iant  military  victory,  it  is  but  fair  that  history  should  accord 


860 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


to  General  Howard  the  chief  laurels  of  the  triumph.  In  all 
our  Indian  warfare  we  have  no  record  of  any  achievement  at 
all  comparable  with  the  pursuit  of  Nez  Perce  Joseph. 

The  great  Indian  leader,  with  the  broken  remnant  of  his 
people,  has  been  transported  by  the  United  States  Government 
hundreds  of  miles  away  from  the  beautiful  country  which  was 
their  own,  to  the  Indian  Territory.  There,  let  us  hope  that, 
under  other  skies  and  happier  auspices,  the  invincible  bravery, 
the  strategic  genius,  the  fertile  intellect,  with  its  inexhaustible 
resources,  the  proud  spirit,  with  its  unconquerable  determina 
tion,  of  Chief  Joseph,  may  be  transmitted  by  him  to  other 
generations,  and  there  find  employment  in  the  busy  tasks  of 
civilized  society. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE. 


861 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE. 


NELSON  LEE,  THE  TEXAN  RANGER. 


UBING  the  revolutionary  struggles  of  the  Lone 
Star  republic,  Texas  was  a  great  magnet,  to 
ward  which  were  irresistibly  attracted,  from 
every  portion  of  the  Union,  men  of  physical 
courage  and  restless  appetite  for  adventure. 
This  race  of  men,  collected  from  all  parts  of 
the  country,  had  much  in  common.  By  a  prin 
ciple  of  natural  selection,  they  were  all  kindred 
spirits.  War,  adventure,  scouting,  Indian  fighting  were  their 
pleasures.  What  to  other  men  was  tragedy,  was  to  them  com 
edy.  When  taken  prisoners  by  the  Mexicans,  they  drew  the 
black  beans,  which  doomed  them  to  military  execution  within 
ten  minutes,  with  the  same  light,  airy  demeanor  with  which 
they  would  have  thrown  dice  for  drinks  or  flirted  with  a  Mex 
ican  maid.  Strange,  wild  fellows  they  were,  often  of  gigantic 
stature,  shaggy  as  lions,  and  not  less  brave.  Such  were  the 
men  who,  in  the  wars  between  Texas  and  Mexico,  and  later, 
between  the  United  States  and  Mexico,  formed  those  historic 
bands  of  scouts  known  as  "  Texan  Rangers." 

Among  the  restless  fellows  who  were  drawn  to  Texas  by  the 
very  troubles  which  drove  other  people  from  the  State  was 
Nelson  Lee,  a  young  man  born  arid  raised  near  Watertown, 
New  York.  He  had  volunteered  for  the  Black  Hawk  war, 
but  his  company  was  scourged  by  small-pox  while  on  their 


862  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

way  to  the  front,  and  before  the  men  recovered,  poor  old  Black 
Hawk  had  been  captured  and  deposed  from  his  chieftaincy. 
Disappointed  in  this,  young  Lee  took  up  a  seafaring  life.  Tiring 
of  this,  he,  in  1839,  resolved  to  abandon  the  sea,  and  cast  his 
fortunes  among  the  fierce  Texans.  The  state  at  that  time,  as 
will  be  remembered,  was  an  independent  republic,  but  a  bloody 
border  warfare  raged  incessantly  with  Mexico.  Perhaps  less 
with  the  notion  of  reconquering  Texas  than  with  annoying 
her  people  and  gathering  plunder,  Mexican  bandits  were  contin 
ually  crossing  the  border  and  falling  upon  some  remote  and 
unsuspecting  settlement  like  destroying  devils,  and  then  retreat 
ing  as  rapidly  as  they  advanced.  Of  course,  the  Texans  retal 
iated  in  the  bloodiest  manner. 

For  the  purpose  of  protecting  the  settlers  from  these  raids, 
as  well  as  punishing  the  Mexicans,  there  came  into  existence 
bands  of  scouts,  or  bushwhackers,  employed  by  the  Texas  gov 
ernment  at  a  dollar  a  day,  and  known  as  the  "  Texan  Rangers." 
Lee,  finding  no  other  employment  so  congenial  or  so  profitable, 
soon  enlisted  in  one  of  these  companies,  under  Captain  Cameron. 
The  Ranger  was  usually  dressed  in  buckskin,  with  a  cap  made 
from  the  fur  of  a  wild-cat.  Three  or  four  revolvers  and  as 
many  bowie  knives  were  thrust  through  his  belt,  and  a  short 
rifle  was  thrown  across  his  arm.  The  most  important  part  of 
his  equipment  was  a  horse  of  great  speed  and  endurance,  on 
which  a  journey  of  eighty  miles  could  be  readily  made  between 
sunrise  and  sunset. 

Lee's  first  taste  of  Ranger  warfare  was  a  fight  with  a  band  of 
Comanche  Indians,  who  worried  the  settlements  quite  as  much 
as  the  Mexicans.  He  was  green  at  the  business,  but  won  the 
respect  of  his  companions  by  his  boldness,  even  if  he  did  little 
execution.  When,  after  a  two  hours'  fight,  the  Indians  took  to 
flight,  they  left  behind  a  deep  impression  on  the  mind  of  the 
young  Ranger.  A  month  or  two  afterward  Lee  and  fifteen  com 
panions,  under  command  of  Ben  McCullough,  were  sent  out  on 
a  scout.  Falling  in  with  the  trail  of  seven  hundred  Comanches, 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE. 


863 


the  little  party  of  spies  remained  a  respectful  distance  and  shad 
owed  their  movements.  The  Rangers  were  compelled  to  behold 
from  afar  the  sack  and  burning  of  the  village  of  Lindville. 
Meanwhile  a  call  had  been  sent  for  re-enforcements,  and  the 
scouts,  who  never  let  the  enemy  get  out  of  their  sight,  were 
joined  by  recruits,  the  fighting  force  numbering  three  hundred 


jgFjp^ 

THE  RANGERS  PURSUING  THE  COMANCHES. 

men.  The  object  of  an  attack  was  not  merely  to,  punish  the 
Indians,  but  to  rescue  seven  white  women,  who  had  been  taken 
captive.  These  latter  were  rightly  conjectured  to  be  in  the  rear 
of  the  camp  with  the  old  men.  One  detachment  was  to  move 
around  to  the  rear  and  release  the  women  if  possible,  while  the 
men  fought  from  the  front. 

The  first  company  arrived  within  view  of  their  victims.     The 
Indians  observed  them  at  the  same  instant.     In  a  moment  the 


864  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

red  devils  could  be  seen  running  toward  the  foot  of  a  tree  where 
sat  the  seven  captive  women.  The  Rangers  heard  despairing 
shrieks  and  saw  the  waving  of  white  arms  in  the  air,  in  the 
frenzy  of  supplication.  Above  the  heads  of  the  crowd  could 
be  seen  tomahawks  rising  and  falling.  Horrified  at  the  sight, 
the  men  rode  at  full  speed  into  the  Indian  camp.  The  murder 
ers  had  fled,  leaving  behind  the  corpses  of  five  of  their  prison 
ers.  In  their  hurry  they  failed  to  dispatch  the  two  remain 
ing  women.  These  were  rescued  by  the  Rangers  with  tender 
gallantry. 

While  this  was  taking  place  Lee,  fighting  with  the  other 
detachment,  received  a  bullet  in  his  left  arm,  causing  him  to 
drop  his  bridle  rein.  His  spirited  horse  sprang  forward,  directly 
in  the  midst  of  the  Indians.  Perceiving  their  comrade's  danger, 
the  Rangers  threw  themselves  upon  the  Indians,  and  in  a  hand 
to  hand  conflict  almost  exterminated  their  foes.  A  little  later 
Lee  joined  a  company  of  Rangers,  under  the  famous  Jack  Hays, 
at  San  Antonio. 

In  the  intervals  between  scouting  expeditions  against  the 
Mexicans,  the  Rangers  occupied  themselves  with  hunting  and 
watching  for  Indian  trails.  One  morning,  while  eating  breakfast 
in  their  camp,  on  a  short  point  of  land  at  the  intersection  of 
Walker's  Creek  and  the  Guadaloupe  River,  the  men  discovered 
two  Indians  on  the  top  of  a  high  hill,  near  where  they  were  en 
camped.  It  was  evident  that  the  men  were  in  a  trap.  Hays 
called  them  together,  and  in  a  few  ringing  words  explained  the 
peril,  then  ordered  them  to  follow  him.  He  took  his  way 
directly  up  the  hill  toward  the  Indians,  who  were  still  watching 
the  Rangers'  movements  with  eager  scrutiny.  When  half-way 
up  the  ascent,  the  savages  suddenly  disappeared.  The  same 
instant  Hays  wheeled  his  horse  sharply  to  the  right,  and,  fol 
lowed  by  his  men,  swept  around  the  side  of  the  mountain  at 
the  top  of  his  speed. 

The  Indian  camp,  containing  two  hundred  warriors,  was 
taken  completely  by  surprise.  They  fought  boldly,  but  at  a 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          865 

disadvantage.  At  the  first  charge  of  the  Rangers  one  of  them, 
known  as  Big  Sam  Taylor,  received  an  arrow  through  his  cheek 
and  neck.  Failing  to  withdraw  it  he  broke  it  off,  and  fought 
through  the  entire  engagement  with  the  cruel  shaft  thrust 
through  his  flesh.  Later  in  the  fight,  when  the  dead  Indians 
were  heaped  thickly  upon  the  ground,  Hays  discovered  a 
wounded  chief,  and  resolved  to  take  him  captive.  As  the 
white  man  approached,  he  perceived  a  quick  movement  on  the 
part  of  the  Indian,  and  jumped  aside.  At  the  same  instant  an 
arrow  sped  from  the  bow  of  a  fallen  red  man,  and,  missing  Hays, 
buried  itself  in  the  throbbing  heart  of  a  Ranger  named  Mott. 
Even  when  assailed  by  several  of  his  enemies,  the  stern  old 
warrior,  in  spite  of  his  broken  leg,  fought  like  a  lion,  beating 
off  his  foes  again  and  again,  until  a  pistol  ball  ended  his  strug 
gles.  When  the  battle  was  over,  the  Rangers  found  three  of 
their  men  dead  and  four  wounded.  Of  the  Indians  ninety 
corpses  lay  on  the  ground  in  the  majesty  of  death. 

On  the  way  back  to  San  Antonio  after  this  fight,  Lee  dis 
mounted  with  the  rest  one  evening  on  the  bank  of  a  small 
stream.  As  his  feet  struck  the  ground,  he  heard  a  loud  rattle 
in  the  grass,  and  instantly  felt  a  fearful  pain  in  his  right  leg. 
He  was  bitten  by  a  rattlesnake.  A  Spaniard  in  the  party 
sprang  forward,  killed  the  monster  snake,  and  quickly  cutting 
pieces  of  flesh  from  its  wriggling  body,  applied  them  to  the 
wound.  Lee  says  he  could  feel  them  draw.  The  prompt  treat 
ment  saved  his  life. 

Arriving  near  San  Antonio,  the  Rangers  were  enraged  to 
find  the  town  in  the  possession  of  a  band  of  Mexican  guerrillas. 
Entering  the  place  at  night,  the  Rangers  surrounded  a  house 
where  large  numbers  of  the  enemy  were  enjoying  themselves  in 
a  grand  fandango.  A  horrible  fight  ensued,  which  freed  ^the  town 
from  the  band  of  ruffians. 

On  one  occasion,  Lee  left  his  magnificent  horse,  the  Black 
Prince,  at  the  town  of  Seguin.  After  an  absence  of  some  days 
he  returned,  to  find  that  Indians  had  taken  nearly  every  horse 


866  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

in  the  village,  including  the  noble  animal  which  he  loved  better 
than  his  life.  Lee  and  a  party  of  friends,  mounted  on  mules, 
set  out  to  make  a  reprisal.  They  traveled  nearly  all  day,  with 
out  success,  when  a  black  speck  was  discovered  far  away  on  the 
prairie.  It  attracted  attention,  and  every  eye  was  strained  to 
watch  the  object.  It  grew  larger.  It  came  nearer.  In  time 
it  could  be  seen  to  move.  A  little  later,  it  assumed  the  outline 
of  an  animal.  Two  men  declared  that  it  was  a  horse.  This 
conjecture  proved  correct.  The  animal,  without  rein  or  rider, 
was  coming  toward  them  at  the  top  of  its  speed.  In  a  little 
while  the  Black  Prince,  with  mane  and  tail  flying,  eyes  ablaze, 
nostrils  distended,  his  black  coat  covered  with  flecks  of  white 
foam,  dashed  into  the  camp  and,  panting  for  breath,  stopped  by 
his  owner's  side.  He  had  broken  from  his  captors  and  traveled 
more  than  a  hundred  miles  to  rejoin  his  master. 

One  day  Lee  met  Hays  in  San  Antonio,  and  learned  that 
Christolphe  Rublo,  in  boyhood  a  vicious  vagabond,  in  manhood 
a  desperate  villain,  had  been  in  the  town  as  a  spy  for  the  Mex 
icans.  He  was  suspected  to  have  gone  to  the  mission  of  San 
Juan,  nine  miles  down  the  river.  A  band  of  twenty  Rangers 
galloped  to  the  place.  The  great  gates  swung  open,  and  Lee 
and  the  rest  entered.  Rublo  concealed  himself  behind  the  gates 
and  attempted  to  escape,  but  fell  into  a  ditch  and  was  captured. 
He  was  taken  to  San  Antonio,  the  people  of  which  demanded 
the  execution  of  the  ruffian. 

Jack  Hays,  however,  declared  that  Lee  and  his  fellow 
Rangers  should  conduct  the  prisoner  to  the  town  of  Seguin, 
which  was  entitled  to  deal  with  him  as  its  citizens  wished,  on 
account  of  Ruble's  outrages  upon  them.  The  dispute  over  this 
question  well-nigh  involved  the  fiery  Texans  in  a  fight. 

In  the  afternoon,  Rublo  and  his  fellow-villain,  called  the 
Ranchero,  were  brought  out,  placed  upon  horses,  and  marched 
from  the  town  between  files  of  shaggy  Rangers.  The  argu 
ments  of  the  San  A.ntonio  people,  that  they  would  be  in  great 
danger  if  the  Rangers  left  them  to  take  the  two  prisoners  to- 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  867 

Seguin,  contained  great  truth.  In  this  emergency  the  fertile 
mind  of  Hays  devised  a  stratagem.  • 

After  leaving  San  Antonio  and  following  the  road  toward 
Seguin  till  after  nightfall,  Lee  and  a  companion  named  Escue,  in 
whose  special  charge  the  two  prisoners  were,  gradually  fell  to 
the  rear  of  the  Rangers,  and  then,  under  cover  of  darkness, 
turned  sharply  to  the  right,  abandoning  all  roads  and  trails,  and, 
with  their  two  captives,  struck  out  into  the  open  plain.  Mean 
while,  the  main  body  of  Rangers  wheeled  about  and  marched 
back  to  San  Antonio.  Lee  and  his  companion  wrapped  them 
selves  and  their  prisoners  in  dark  buffalo  skins  to  avoid  obser 
vation  by  the  Mexican  horsemen  who  were  scouring  the  coun 
try,  and  hurried  across  the  plain  through  a  blinding  rain. 

Sometime  after  midnight  a  halt  was  called.  Lee  took  Rublo 
from  his  pony,  bound  him  hand  and  foot,  and,  with  cocked 
pistol  in  hand,  sat  down  by  his  side.  The  desperado  knew 
that,  unless  he  escaped,  the  outraged  citizens  of  Seguin  would, 
on  the  next  day,  take  his  life.  Lee  says  that,  for  his  part,  he 
was  perfectly  well  aware  that,  if  Rublo  should  escape  from 
him,  the  same  citizens  of  Seguin  would  take  his  own  life  for 
permitting  the  escape.  With  this  understanding,  let  us  proceed. 

Escue,  who  had  charge  of  the  Ranchero,  selected  a  spot  for 
passing  the  night  some  rods  distant  from  Lee.  His  prisoner 
covered  himself  up  with  buffalo  skins,  and  apparently  fell  into 
a  deep  sleep.  Escue  tied  the  halter  of  his  horse  to  his  ankle, 
believing  this  would  keep  him  awake.  In  spite  of  this  he  went 
to  sleep.  The  cunning  Ranchero  slipped  out  of  his  bonds,  care 
fully  arranged  his  hat  among  the  buffalo  skins,  so  that  to  the 
casual  eye  he  was  seen  to  be  still  lying  there,  took  the  halter 
off  of  Escue's  horse  and  tied  it  to  the  limb  of  a  tree,  mounted 
and  rode  away. 

In  the  morning  Lee  discovered  a  band  of  Mexicans  approach 
ing.  The  moment  was  critical.  Escue's  own  horse  was  gone. 
The  one  left  by  the  Ranchero  was  a  broken  down  animal,  use 
less  for  escape.  The  pony  on  which  Rublo  was  mounted  was  a 


868  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

good  one.  Lee  instantly  made  up  his  mind.  He  drew  his 
revolver,  shot  his  prisoner  through  the  heart,  yelled  to  Escue 
to  mount  the  pony  from  which  the  lifeless  desperado  had 
fallen,  and  the  two  men  began  their  flight,  in  which  they  were 
successful. 

Lee  and  Escue  brought  word  to  San  Antonio  of  the  approach 
of  the  Mexicans.  The  Rangers  fought  a  hard  battle  on  the 
banks  of  Salado  Creek.  This  invasion  of  the  Mexicans,  under 
General  Woll,  raised  a  popular  clamor  for  a  counter  expedition 
against  Mexico. 

In  the  fall  of  1842  the  government  of  Texas  gave  a  reluc 
tant  consent  for  the  expedition.  Twelve  or  fifteen  hundred 
men,  "renegades,  refugees  from  justice,  adventurers  of  all  sorts, 
ready  for  any  enterprise  that  afforded  a  reasonable  prospect  of 
excitement  and  plunder,  dare-devils,  afraid  of  nothing  under  the 
sun,"  assembled  at- San  Antonio.  General  Somerville,  who  was 
placed  in  command,  proved  to  be  incompetent.  He  delayed 
marching  for  two  months.  Great  numbers  of  the  recruits  de 
serted.  When,  finally,  the  Rio  Grande  was  reached,  various 
reasons  induced  Somerville  to  order  a  retreat  of  the  expedition. 
Three  hundred  men,  of  which  Lee  was  one,  refused  to  obey. 
Somerville  and  the  rest  returned  to  their  homes,  but  these  bold 
fellows  determined  to  push  on  into  the  enemy's  country. 

On  the  23d  of  December,  1842,  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  the  three  hundred  Rangers  entered  the  town  of  Mier, 
and  commenced  a  street  fight  in  the  darkness  with  the  Mexican 
troops.  Some  of  the  Rangers^  with  crowbars  and  picks,  were 
busily  engaged  in  breaking  openings  through  the  stone  walls  of 
the  buildings,  and  thus  making  their  way  toward  the  square, 
where  the  Mexicans  were  posted.  The  fight  lasted  many  hours. 
In  this  battle  Big  Foot  Wallace,  whose  adventures  we  detail 
hereafter,  had  a  narrow  escape.  In  one  of  the  charges  he  fol 
lowed  a  party  of  retreating  Mexicans  too  far.  They  suddenly 
turned  upon  him,  and  in  a  flash  surrounded  him,  rendering 
escape  apparently  impossible.  He  made  a  lunge  at  an  opening 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  869 

in  the  circle  of  enemies,  threw  one  man  down,  and,  receiving  a 
bayonet-thrust  through  his  left  arm,  succeeded  in  escaping. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  there  was  a  cessation  of 
hostilities.  The  Mexicans  sent  out  a  flag  of  truce.  For  rea 
sons  never  fully  understood  a  surrender  was  made  by  the  Tex- 
ans.  Both  Lee  and  Wallace  agree  that  this  was  a  mistake. 

At  the  moment  of  the  surrender,  Lee,  with  ten  companions, 
occupied  a  house  at  some  distance  from  the  main  body.  Notic 
ing  that  the  firing  had  ceased,  Lee  slipped  out  into  the  street 
to  a  point  where  he  commanded  a  view  of  the  Square,  and  dis 
covered  the  Texans  marching  up  and  laying  down  their  arms. 
Hurrying  back  to  his  comrades,  he  explained  the  situation  in  a 
few  short  words,  announced  his  determination  to  die  rather  than 
be  taken  to  a  Mexican  prison,  and  suiting  the  act  to  the  word, 
leaped  through  a  back  window.  He  found  himself  in  a  large 
garden,  and  discovering  a  clump  of  high  weeds,  he  crawled  into 
their  midst,  remaining  there  till  nightfall. 

As  soon  as  he  felt  safe  in  so  doing,  he  left  his  hiding-place, 
stealthily  made  his  way  out  of  the  town,  and  in  half  an  hour 
found  himself  alone  in  the  darkness  on  the  banks  of  the  rush 
ing  Rio  Grande.  Arranging  his  clothes  in  a  bundle,  and  carry 
ing  his  rifle,  he  plunged  into  the  river.  For  a  long  time  he 
swam.  It  seemed  impossible  to  reach  the  opposite  shore.  Just 
as  his  strength  was  about  to  give  way  completely,  Lee  discov 
ered  the  outline  of  the  land.  Putting  forth  all  remaining 
strength,  he  managed  to  reach  it  only  to  find  a .  perpendicular 
bluff,  affording  him  not  the  slightest  point  of  support.  After  a 
few  faint  and  ineffectual  struggles  to  clamber  out  of  the  water, 
he  fell  back  into  the  waves,  and  floated  hopelessly  and  help 
lessly  down  the  tide. 

At  last  he  came  within  reach  of  a  tree,  which  had  been 
blown  down  and  extended  over  the  water.  By  means  of  this 
he  clambered  on  to  the  shore,  only  to  find  himself  in  the  midst 
of  the  prickly  pear,  of  which  the  needle-like  thorns  lacerated 
his  bleeding  feet  and  limbs  at  every  step.  Exercising  all  the 


870  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

time  in  order  to  resist  the  cold  of  a  stiff  norther,  he  passed  a 
miserable  night. 

In  the  morning,  the  unhappy  man  discovered  a  column  of 
smoke  apparently  rising  from  a  camp  fire  about  a  mile  away. 
He  at  once  made  his  way  to  the  spot,  crawling  through  the 
grass,  and  discovered  two  Mexican  herdsmen,  one  a  youth,  the 
other  a  man  of  forty  years. 

Lee  had  pluck,  and  knew  the  Mexican  character  thoroughly. 
The  two  herdsmen  were  eating  their  breakfast.  Near  by  stood 
their  guns  and  ammunition.  With  an  unloaded  revolver  in  one 
hand,  and  a  bowie  knife  in  the  other,  the  Ranger  sprang  out  of 
the  bushes  and  shouted  for  the  Mexicans  to  surrender.  The 
terrified  herdsmen  at  once  fell  on  their  knees  with  a  prayer  for 
mercy. 

Having  compelled  the  youth  to  bind  the  man  hand  and  foot, 
and  having  secured  their  guns  and  ammunition,  «Lee  calmly 
proceeded  to  devour  the  breakfast  which  the  herdsmen  had  pre 
pared  for  themselves.  Refreshed  by  the  food,  he  proceeded  to 
talk  the  situation  over  with  his  friends,  and  told  them,  that  if 
they  would  guide  him  to  a  certain  trail,  he  would  set  them  free. 
The  bargain  was  struck.  After  a  three  days'  journey,  during 
which  time  he  did  not  suffer  himself  to  sleep  a  moment,  Lee 
found  himself  in  a  region  where  he  no  longer  needed  a  guide. 
He  took  one  of  the  Mexicans'  guns,  placed  it  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree  with  a  lot  of  ammunition,  called  their  attention  particularly 
to  the  spot,  and  then  ordered  them  to  proceed  as  before. 
When  the  party  had  marched  five  miles  from  the  spot  where 
the  gun  had  been  left,  Lee  turned  his  prisoners  loose,  telling 
,them  that  the  gun  and  ammunition  were  to  enable  them  to  kill 
game  on  their  way  back.  Lee  made  his  way  home  without 
trouble. 

Lee  took  an  active  part  in  the  war  of  the  United  States 
with  Mexico.  His  adventures  during  this  war  we  will  not  here 
relate.  He  subsequently  engaged  in  the  cattle  business,  and  in 
1855  joined  with  a  company  of  men  in  an  enterprise,  the  object 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          871 

of  which  was  to  purchase  a  large  drove  of  mules  and  drive  them 
overland  to  the  San  Francisco  market. 

Among  the  articles  which  Lee  purchased  as  an  equipment 
for  this  trip  was  an  enormous  silver  watch.  It  contained  an 
alarm  of  remarkable  noise  and  duration,  which  could  be  regu 
lated  to  go  off  at  any  moment,  and  while  ringing  the  alarm,  the 
watch  would  actually  move  across  a  table. 

The  company  was  made  up  and  commenced  its  march,  large 
purchases  of  mules  being  made  from  time  to  time,  and  the  easy 
journeys  day  by  day  gradually  carrying  them  far  beyond  the 
boundaries  of  the  settlements.  On  the  evening  of  the  2d  of 
April  they  were  encamped  in  a  beautiful  valley.  The  hunters 
brought  in  some  capital  game,  and  a  neighboring  stream  fur 
nished  lovely  trout.  After  an  abundant  meal  the  men  one  by  one 
went  to  sleep.  Lee  was  on  watch  till  midnight,  when  he  was 
relieved.  At  that  hour  there  were  no  indications  of  danger. 
The  only  sound  which  disturbed  the  profound  silence  of  nature, 
was  the  irregular  tinkle  of  the  horses'  bells. 

Lee  had  been  asleep  but  a  short  time  when  he  was  roused 
by  a  fearful  shriek.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  only  to  discover 
that  the  camp  was  full  of  painted  Indians,  who  were  killing  the 
white  men  one  after  another.  Lee  had  taken  but  a  swift  glance 
at  the  scene  of  horror,  lit  up  by  the  dull  glow  of  the  dying 
camp-fire,  when  a  lasso  was  thrown  over  his  head,  and  he  was 
jerked  violently  to  the  ground.  A  moment  later  several  In 
dians  sprang  upon  him  and  bound  him.  Three  others  besides 
Lee,  named  Thomas  Martin,  Stewart,  and  Aikens,  escaped  the 
massacre,  and  were  bound  similarly  to  Lee. 

In  removing  Lee's  clothing,  one  of  the  Indians  discovered  the 
silver  watch  which  we  have  mentioned.  The  savage  was 
delighted  at  the  bright  toy.  While  regarding  it  with  the 
greatest  curiosity,  the  minute-hand  reached  half-past  three.  At 
that  instant  the  alarm  went  off.  The  savage  was  dumfounded 
as  the  thing  roared  and  rattled  for  two  minutes.  Frightened 
beyond  measure,  he  held  the  thing  at  arm's  length,  seemingly 


872  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

too  much  paralyzed  by  fear  to  let  it  drop,  and  looked  away 
from  it  with  an  expression  of  sickly  horror  on  his  face.  The 
other  Indians  quickly  gathered  about  him.  When  the  alarm 
ceased  they  began  an  unintelligible  jabber.  The  first  Indian 
pointed  repeatedly  to  Lee,  and  finally  the  crowd  of  savages 
came  toward  him,  and  offered  him  the  watch,  with  various  ges 
tures  indicating  that  they  wanted  to  hear  it  go  off  again. 

The  Ranger  saw  his  advantage.  His  hands  were  unbound. 
He  took  the  watch  and,  with  many  ceremonies  and  great  solem 
nity,  regulated  it,  so  that  in  a  few  moments  it  went  off  again. 
After  this  the  Indians  had  a  long  consultation.  From  their 
frequent  gestures  toward  the  sky,  Lee  divined  that  they 
regarded  it  as  something  supernatural  and  himself  as  some  sort 
of  a  prophet. 

When  morning  broke,  the  chief  put  the  watch  carefully 
away,  and  the  Indians  gave  their  attention  once  more  to  the 
white  men's  camp.  The  corpses  of  the  poor  fellows  who  had 
been  murdered  in  their  sleep  were  horribly  mutilated.  Some 
had  arms  and  hands  chopped  off;  some  were  disemboweled; 
some  had  their  tongues  drawn  out  and  sharp  sticks  thrust 
through  them.  Toward  the  four  men  who  were  yet  alive,  the 
Indians  behaved  frightfully,  flourishing  tomahawks  about  their 
heads  and  pressing  the  blades  of  glittering  knives  against  their 
throats  as  if  unable  to  resist  the  fierce  passion  for  murder. 

At  last  the  four  prisoners  were  blindfolded  and  bound  on 
the  backs  of  mules.  These  animals  were  unbridled,  and  were 
left  to  follow  the  bell-mare  at  their  own  sweet  will.  At  times 
the  mules  would  knock  their  blindfolded  riders  against  trees, 
inflicting  fearful  wounds.  Each  accident  of  this  sort  made  the 
whole  party  of  Indians  yell  with  delight. 

As  evening  approached,  the  hideous  Comanches  selected  a 
camping-ground.  A  supper  was  made  from  horse-flesh.  When 
the  Indians  had  satisfied  their  own  hunger,  they  tossed  chunks 
of  frying  meat  at  the  prisoners.  These  fiery  bits,  on  which 
the  fat  was  often  ablaze,  instead  of  being  caught  in  their  mouths, 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  873 

fell  on  the  naked  legs  of  the  white  men,  burning  them  severely. 
The  prisoners  were  put  to  bed  in  a  peculiar  fashion.  They 
were  laid  on  their  backs  on  the  ground,  their  hands  and  feet 
extended  as  widely  as  possible,  and  fastened  stiffly  with  buffalo 
thongs  to  four  stakes  conveniently  driven  in  the  ground.  To 
say  that  they  were  unable  to  move  hand  or  foot  is  to  speak 
the  literal  truth.  For  several  days  they  continued  on  their 
journey,  butted  against  trees  by  the  rascally  mules,  burnt 
with  hot  horse-flesh,  and  staked  out  at  night  in  the  fashion 
indicated. 

Lee  kept  his  thoughts  busy,  reflecting  how  he  might  take 
advantage  of  the  incident  of  the  watch.  By  the  time  he 
reached  the  Indian  village  he  had  matured  in  his  own  mind 
a  unique  system  of  theology,  which  he  determined  to  teach 
the  Indians  if  possible.  The  sun,  as  the  Indians  already  be 
lieved,  was  God.  The  watch,  in  Lee's  new  theology,  was  the 
brother  of  the  sun,  and  on  most  intimate  terms  with  him.  The 
revolution  of  the  hands  each  day,  Lee  determined  to  make  the 
Indians  believe  had  a  mysterious  and  sympathetic  connection 
with  the  movement  of  the  sun.  Finally,  it  remained  to  con 
vince  the  savages  that  Lee  himself  was  the  Great  Spirit  of 
the  watch,  and  that  if  any  thing  happened  either  to  him  or  to 
it,  it  would  also  destroy  the  sun. 

Lee  was  taken  to  the  house  of  the  chief.  Ordinarily  a  pris 
oner  was  the  chief  object  of  attention  in  the  village.  But  on 
this  occasion  the  watch  was  the  favorite  by  heavy  odds.  A 
council  was  called.  The  watch  was  brought  forth.  After  long 
and  vociferous  speeches  the  Indian  sages  pointed  significantly  to 
Lee  and'  to  the  watch,  desiring  him  to  make  it  sound  the  alarm. 
Lee,  pious  fraud  as  he  was,  kneeled  down,  put  up  his  hands 
toward  the  sun,  as  if  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  then  worked 
with  the  watch,  pretending  to  persuade  it  to  go,  and  finally  rose 
to  his  feet,  shook  his  head  solemnly,  and  pointed  to  the  sun  as 
if  to  indicate  that  the  celestial  being  prevented  the  watch  from 
going  off. 


874  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Later  in  the  day  Lee,  who  was  rapidly  rising  in  importance 
in  popular  opinion,  was  taken  by  a  strong  guard  to  a  spot  out 
side  of  the  village,  where  a  large  crowd  had  already  assembled. 
Here  he  found  his  friends  Martin,  Stewart,  and  Aikens,  each 
drawn  up  and  tied  to  pairs  of  posts,  planted  three  feet  apart. 
Some  terrible  ceremony  was  taking  place.  The  Indians  formed 
in  a  circle  about  the  wretched  men  and  deliberately  scalped 
Stewart  and  Martin.  Then  they  took  sharp  arrow-heads  and 
made  gashes  in  the  bodies  of  the  two  men.  This  "they  contin- 
tinued  until  every  inch  of  the  bodies  of  the  unhappy  men  was 
haggled  and  hacked  and  scarified  and  covered  with  clotted  blood." 
The  two  men  screamed  out  in  their  agony,  begging  that  they 
might  be  put  to  death.  Lee  and  Aikens,  sickened  beyond  meas 
ure,  shut  their  eyes  to  keep  out  the  horrid  sight.  The  Indians 
did  not  neglect  to  pull  their  hair  and  flourish  knives  and 
hatchets  about  their  heads  as  if  to  impress  them  that  the  fate 
of  Stewart  and  Martin  would  shortly  be  theirs. 

After  two  hours  of  torture  the  ring  of  warriors  stopped 
dancing,  formed  closely  about  Stewart  and  Martin,  and,  at  an 
appointed  signal,  a  score  of  tomahawks  were  buried  in  the  brain 
of  each  prisoner.  When  the  scene  of  slaughter  was  ended,  Lee 
and  Aikens  were  separated. 

From  this  time  on  he  longed  only  for  death.  One  day  his 
bonds  were  removed.  Hoping  only  to  exasperate  his  captors 
into  killing  him  outright,  he  picked  up.  a  clujb  and  tried  to  kill 
the  nearest  Indian.  Instead  of  attaining  the  desired  result,  he 
found  the  savages  only  laughed  at  him.  Not  a  day  passed  that 
the  Indians  did  not  beseech  Lee  to  make  the  watch  go  off. 
Through  all  these  requests  he  maintained  a  sullen  and  obsti 
nate  refusal. 

One  day  Aikens  was  unexpectedly  brought  into  the  tent 
where  Lee  was  kept,  and  the  two  men  had  a  talk.  Aikens, 
who  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  Indian  character  and  customs, 
told  Lee  that  he  himself  was  shortly  to  be  put  to  death,  but 
that  he  believed  that  Lee  might  yet  escape  through  the  instru- 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          875 

mentality  of  the  watch,  if,  instead  of  being  sullen  and  stubborn, 
he  would  comply  with  the  Indians'  wishes,  and  exert  himself  to 
win  their  favor. 

Lee  took  the  advice,  In  time  he  was  adopted  into  the  tribe. 
He  had  long  since  lost  sight  of  Aikens,  and  indeed  never  learned 
his  fate.  Little  by  little,  Lee  won  their  confidence,  and  acquired 
more  and  more  liberty.  He  was  allowed  no  weapons,  but  was 
permitted  to  walk  about  the  village. 

One  day,  Lee  was  suddenly  ordered  to  mount  a  big  mule, 
and  follow  Big  Wolf,  the  chief.  A  band  of  warriors  accompanied 
them.  They  traveled  all  day.  At  evening,  Lee  hastened  to 
cook  Big  Wolfs  supper.  He  had,  indeed,  for  a  long  time,  been 
his  servant.  During  this  whole  period,  the  chief  never  took  a 
mouthful  of  food  until  after  Lee  had  tasted  it,  a  precaution 
against  poison. 

At  the  close  of  the  second  day,  they  reached  the  village  of 
the  great  chief,  Spotted  Leopard.  Lee  took  an  instinctive  dis 
like  to  this  chief  and  his  people.  Among  the  latter,  however, 
was  one  who  was  his  friend.  She  was  Kianceta,  the  Weasel. 
Of  her  Lee  speaks  with  enthusiam.  She  was  of  slender  and 
beautiful  figure,  graceful  and  dignified.  Her  weird  costume,  with 
its  gay  embroidery  and  bead  work,  was  partly  obscured  by  her 
coal  black  hair,  which  fell  in  luxuriant  profusion  half-way  to 
the  ground. 

But  Kianceta's  spirit  was  even  fairer  than  her  form.  "She 
sympathized  with  the  poor  captive,  when  others  laughed  at  him. 
She  sat  down  by  his  side  and  looked  up  sorrowfully  into  his 
face,  when  the  young  savages  of  the  village  beat  him  with 
stones  and  sticks.  A  hundred  times  she  stood  between  him 
and  those  who  threatened  harm;  gave  him  corn  when  others 
had  it  not;  attended  him  when  sick,  casting  red-hot  stones 
into  a  trough  of  water  to  make  him  a  steam  bath,  and  wrapping 
him  with  thick  buffalo  skins,  until  his  cold  was  broken  up  and 
his  health  restored." 

In  spite  of  the  charms  of  Kianceta,  Lee  furtively  watched 


876 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  A.ND  ROMANCES. 


his  chances  for  escape.  A  half  mile  from  the  village  was  a 
dark,  wooded  ravine,  which  if  he  could  reach  Lee  believed 
escape  to  be  possible.  After  many  nights  passed  in  planning, 
he  resolved  on  the  attempt.  With  the  knife  which  he  was  at 


SPOTTED  LEOPARD,  THE  COMANCHE  CHIEF. 

this  time  permitted  to  carry  he  cut  up  some  strips  of  venison 
to  serve  him  as  food  in  his  flight,  and  concealed  the  bundle  of 
them  in  a  log.  One  midnight,  when  the  village  was  asleep,  and 
Spotted  Leopard  snored  loudly,  on  his  royal  couch,  Lee  slipped 
quietly  from  the  tent,  made  his  way  quietly  to  the  log  where 


HEROES  OF  TJSE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  877 

his  venison  was  hidden,  secured  the  precious  pack  and  started 
to  leave  the  village.  He  had  reached  the  outer  row  of  wigwams, 
when  he  was  startled  by  the  growl  of  a  big  dog,  which  con 
fronted  him,  showing  his  white  teeth. 

In  a  moment  the  bark  was  caught  up  and  answered  by  an 
other  cur  at  the  farther  end  of  the  village.  Others  still  disturbed 
the  midnight  air  with  fierce  barks  and  lugubrious  howls.  On 
they  came,  one  after  another,  with  growls  and  snarls,  to  the 
spot  where  poor  Lee  stood,  half  dead  with  fright.  It  was  but  a 
moment  from  the  time  when  the  first  dog  discovered  him  until 
he  found  himself  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  barking  curs. 

Another  danger  also  appeared.  The  village  was  roused  by 
the  unusual  disturbance  among  the  dogs,  and  sleepy  warriors 
could  be  heard,  one  after  another,  from  their  wigwams,  cursing 
the  dogs,  and  telling  them  to  lie  down.  Lee  no  longer  thought 
of  flight,  but  only  of  avoiding  discovery.  He  crawled  back  to 
his  tent  and  lay  down,  bitterly  disappointed  at  his  failure. 

Still  he  did  not  give  up.  Days  and  weeks  rolled  by  before 
he  matured  another  plan.  Although  he  was  ordered  not  to  go 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  village,  he  disregarded  the  com 
mand,  and  ventured  out  from  day  to  day,  each  time  going  a 
little  farther.  At  first  he  was  often  told  to  go  back.  Then  his 
disobedience  was  less  and  less  noticed.  Finally  no  one  inter 
fered  with  him  at  all. 

One  evening,  just  at  dark,  he  started  off  in  a  slow,  care 
less  walk  toward  the  ravine.  He  had  gone  a  considerable  dis 
tance  when  three  warriors  suddenly  confronted  him.  He  pre 
tended  to  be  cutting  a  stick  from  some  bushes  on  which  to 
cook  his  master's  meat.  The  trick  was  too  thin.  The  suspi 
cions  of  the  Indians  were  aroused.  They  seized  him  roughly 
by  the  arm  and  marched  him  back  to  the  village.  They 
reported  the  occurrence  to  Spotted  Leopard.  A  long  and  ear 
nest  consultation  was  had,  at  the  close  of  which  the  chief  came 
out,  seized  Lee,  and  jerked  him  forcibly  into  the  wigwam. 
After  binding  the  runaway,  hand  and  foot,  the  Indian  rolled  up 

49 


878  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

his  leggins  and  deliberately  slashed  a  sharp  knife  across  the 
muscle  on  the  front  of  his  leg  just  below  the  knee.  This  sur 
gical  operation  was  designed  to  cripple  Lee,  so  escape  would 
be  impossible.  The  white  man  was  kept  tied  for  two  weeks. 
Every  day  Spotted  Leopard  would  seize  his  leg  and  work  it 
back  and  forth,  breaking  open  the  wound  anew.  Eventually 
the  limb  healed,  but  was  permanently  stiff. 

From  time  to  time,  Lee  accompanied  Spotted  Leopard  and 
his  people  on  long  hunts  around  the  head-waters  of  the  Guada- 
loupe.  Once  they  had  a  fierce  battle  with  the  Apaches.  Lee 
prayed  that  the  Comanches  might  be  whipped,  but  in  this  he 
was  disappointed.  On  another  occasion,  they  were  visited  by 
a  friendly  tribe,  with  a  chief  named  Rolling  Thunder.  This 
Indian  was  naturally  reverent.  He  was  more  fond  of  wor 
shiping  the  sun  on  his  knees  than  of  dancing  the  war-dance. 
Such  a  character  is  unusual  among  the  Indians.  Lee  was  called 
out  to  give  an  exhibition  with  his  watch,  which  he  did,  with 
marked  effect,  the  pious  Rolling  Thunder  ascribing  every  thing 
wonderful  to  some  supernatural  power. 

Another  party  of  Indians,  on  another  occasion,  encamped 
near  them.  In  the  afternoon  Lee  noticed  an  unusual  stir  among 
Spotted  Leopard's  people,  which  ended  in  the  whole  party's 
moving  down  toward  the  neighboring  camp  of  the  strangers. 
Lee  felt  something  unusual  was  going  to  happen.  Breathless 
with  suspense,  he  listened.  Presently  a  human  voice  rang  out 
through  the  air  in  one  awful  scream  of  agony.  At  intervals  it 
was  repeated,  growing  feebler  and  feebler.  An  hour  or  two 
later,  some  Indians  came  after  Lee,  and  took  him  through  the 
strangers'  camp.  Scattered  around  he  saw  torn  fragments  of 
the  uniform  of  a  United  States  soldier.  A  few  steps  farther 
on,  Lee  saw  the  remains  of  the  soldier.  A  stick  had  been 
thrust  under  his  heel  cords,  and  he  had  been  hung  up  head 
downward,  until  at  last,  bleeding  from  many  wounds,  he  gave 
up  the  ghost.  No  doubt  he  had  been  captured  near  some 
army  post. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  879 

One  day  Lee  discovered  three  white  women  captives  of 
another  band  of  the  same  tribe.  It  was  months  before  he 
could  speak  to  them.  At  last,  on  the  occasion  of  a  great  feast 
and  dance  he  was  enabled  to  do  so.  They  were  English  by 
birth.  A  Mormon  missionary  had  induced  them  to  leave  their 
home,  and,  with  a  party  of  two  hundred  others,  come  to  Amer 
ica.  After  a  long  voyage  from  England,  they  had  landed  at 
Indianola,  on  Matagorda  Bay.  From  that  point,  their  way 
lay  overland  to  the  Great  Salt  Lake.  On  the  journey  through 
the  mountains  many  of  the  teams  gave  out.  The  party  became 
separated.  The  Indians  became  troublesome,  and  finally  cap 
tured  large  numbers,  among  whom  were  these  three  women. 
Lee  felt  a  burning  interest  in  this  story  of  the  misfortunes  of 
these  poor  creatures,  compared  to  which  his  own,  inasmuch  as 
he  was  at  best  an  adventurer,  were  trifling. 

After  their  capture  the  men  were  massacred.  Mrs.  Has- 
kin's  infant  child  was  seized  by  an  Indian,  a  hole  cut  under 
its  chin,  and  then  hung  on  the  sharp  limb  of  a  tree,  and  left 
until  death  should  relieve  it.  The  three  women  wera  the  com 
mon  drudges  of  the  camp.  The  elder,  the  mother  of  the  others, 
becoming  too  feeble  to  work,  was,  soon  after  Lee  met  her,  put 
to  death  by  torture. 

The  pious  Rolling  Thunder  made  visits  of  increasing  fre 
quency  to  Spotted  Leopard,  which  resulted  at  last  in  a  change 
of  masters  for  Lee.  The  chief  use  which  Rolling  Thunder 
made  of  his  new  captive  was  to  make  him  describe  the  won 
ders  of  the  world  and  of  civilization. 

Before  long  he  invited  Lee  to  choose  a  wife.  To  this  the 
white  man  assented,  and,  after  a  careful  inspection  of  the  entire 
tribe,  chose  a  young  and  slender  squaw,  rather  dirty  but  good- 
looking,  known  as  the  Sleek  Otter.  The  marriage  resulted  hap 
pily,  and  Lee  received  increased  privileges. 

During  Lee's  residence  with  this  tribe  tw"o  young  warriors, 
who  had  a  fierce  quarrel  of  long  standing,  which  the  council 
had  again  and  again  attempted  to  settle,  determined  to  fight 


880  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  matter  to  the  death.  Both  men  were  athletic  and  powerful. 
They  met  in  the  center  of  a  ring,  and  their  left  arms,  as  far  up 
as  the  elbow,  were  lashed  together  with  buffalo  hide  so  firmly 
that  there  was  no  possibility  of  the  men  breaking  away  from 
each  other.  In  the  right  hand  of  each  was  placed  a  hunting 
knife  with  a  sharp  blade  nine  inches  long.  The  brothers  of  the 
combatants  stood  at  a  little  distance,  similarly  armed. 

At  a  given  signal  the  two  men  raised  their  bright  blades  in 
air,  then  brought  them  down  suddenly.  In  an  instant  they 
were  again  uplifted,  no  longer  bright,  but  crimsoned  with  blood. 
For  a  minute  the  knives  rose  and  fell  incessantly,  the  men 
struggling  with  fury.  "At  length  a  mortal  thrust  by  one  was 
followed  by  a  fierce  blow  from  the  other,  gashing  through  the 
side  of  the  neck,  from  which  the  purple  tide  of  life  spouted  up 
in  a  wide,  high  arch,  when  both  fell  lifeless  to  the  ground." 
Had  either  survived,  the  brother  of  the  other  would  have  at 
once  put  him  to  death. 

Lee  took  many  trips  with  Rolling  Thunder,  but  on  no  occa 
sion  did  the  chief  sleep  alone  with  him  in  the  tent.  At  last 
they  took  a  three  days'  journey  together  without  a  companion 
toward  a  village,  three  days'  journey  to  the  north.  While  at 
this  place  the  chief  got  drunk,  and  on  the  way  home  was  ex 
ceedingly  thirsty.  After  a  long  search  a  little  pool  of  water  was 
discovered.  He  ordered  Lee  to  get  him  a  drink  in  his  hunting 
horn.  The  latter  being  unable  to  do  this  without  scooping  up 
considerable  mud,  the  thirsty  Indian  sprang  from  his  horse, 
threw  down  his  rifle,  and  lying  flat  on  the  ground,  drank  eagerly 
from  the  pool.  On  the  spur  of  the  moment,  as  Lee's  eye  caught 
sight  of  a  hatchet  hanging  on  the  Indian's  saddle,  a  fearful 
thought  burst  upon  him.  In  a  moment  the  idea  was  put  into 
execution.  Snatching  the  hatchet,  he  bent  over,  and  deliber 
ately  buried  it  in  the  Indian's  head. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  moment  to  seize  the  dead  chief's  gun 
and  knife,  mount  his  horse,  and,  leading  the  mule  which  he  had 
himself  ridden,  dash  away  across  the  country.  It  was  a  lonely 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.         x  881 

journey  through  a  lonely  wilderness,  across  rocky  ridges,  and 
along  dark  ravines.  Late  at  night  he  paused  for  the  first  time. 
His  only  resource  in  the  way  of  food  was  to  kill  the  mule. 
Building  a  small  fire  he  prepared  himself  a  meal  from  the  meat. 
Though  refreshed  by  eating,  a  new  horror  presented  itself. 
The  blood  and  smell  of  the  animal  was  scented  by  wild  beasts, 
which  crashed  through  the  forest  with  horrid  cries  throughout 
the  night. 

At  the  end  of  fifty-six  days'  travel,  Lee  fell  in  with  some 
Mexican  traders,  and,  more  dead  than  alive,  was  kindly  cared 
for.  When  he  had  sufficiently  recovered  he  left  Texas,  having 
had  enough  of  life  as  a  Ranger. 


882 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE,  CONTINUED. 
BIG  FOOT  WALLACE.— BOWIE'S  FIGHT. 

ILLIAM  A.  WALLACE,  who  now  resides  on  a 
ranche,  near  San  Antonio,  must  be  nearly  sev 
enty  years  old.  He  is  six  feet  two  inches  tall, 
a  thorough  Texan.  The  name  by  which  he  is 
best  known  and  which  we  have  placed  at  the 
head  of  this  sketch,  was  given  him  on  account 
of  his  enormous  feet.  The  fact  that  he  is  yet 
alive,  having  survived  the  stormy  and  turbulent 
period  of  the  history  of  Texas,  and  lives  to  see  it  rapidly 
advancing  to  the  front  rank  among  the  states  of  the  Union r 
must  be  attributed  to  fortune.  All,  or  nearly  all  his  old  com 
panion  Rangers  who  were  with  him  in  terrible  expeditions,  in 
cruel  captivity,  in  fierce  adventures,  are  gone.  Many  fell  in  bat 
tle  long  years  ago.  Of  the  few  who  chanced  to  escape  a  death 
by  violence,  many  have  breathed  their  last  in  lonely  ranches 
where  their  closing  days  were  spent. 

The  day  of  the  Texan  Ranger  has  long  since  departed.  The 
troubles  with  Mexico  ceased  to  exist  many  years  ago.  Since  the 
time  when  the  shaggy  Rangers  dashed  across  the  country  on 
their  bold  expeditions,  fighting,  killing,  capturing,  retreating, 
many  changes  have  come  to  pass  in  Texas.  While,  no  doubt, 
her  vast  and  lonely  expanses  of  territory  yet  contain  many  bold 
and  desperate  men,  the  Ranger,  as  such,  is  a  character  which 
lives  only  in  history. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  883 

Big  Foot  Wallace  was  born  in  Virginia.  When  he  was 
twenty  years  of  age,  about  the  year  1836,  he  turned  up  in 
Texas,  attracted  to  that  point,  like  Lee,  and  many  another  bold 
young  spirit  of  the  eastern  states,  who  had  in  his  veins  the 
blood  of  the  old  pioneers  and  Indian  fighters. 

Soon  after  Wallace's  arrival  in  Texas  he  fell  in  with  a  sur 
veyor  who  was  preparing  for  an  expedition  to  locate  lands  on 
the  frontier.  The  surveyor  offered  Wallace  employment,  telling 
him  that  as  the  rest  of  the  party  were  all  old  frontiersmen,  it 
was  well  enough  to  have  one  greenhorn  along  for  the  fun 
of  the  thing. 

The  party  consisted  of  sixteen  men,  including  a  hunter  and 
a  cook.  On  the  first  day  out,  Wallace  killed  a  deer.  He  says, 
"I  thought  I  had  performed  a  wonderful  feat,  for  I  had  never 
killed  any  thing  before  larger  than  a  squirrel  or  a  'possum,  and 
I  proudly  returned  to  the  camp  with  the  deer  on  my  shoulders, 
trying  all  the  time  though,  to  look  as  if  the  killing  of  a  deer 
was  no  unusual  thing  with  me.  But  the  boys  suspected  me, 
and  when  I  owned  up  that  it  was  the  first  deer  I  had  ever 
shot,  they  seized  me  and  smeared  my  face  with  the  blood  of 
the  animal."  This  bit  of  camp  fun  was  a  sort  of  an  initiation 
of  Wallace  into  the  brotherhood  of  hunters. 

When  the  expedition  reached  the  last  white  settlement 
which  the  men  were  to  see  for  many  a  day,  Wallace  had  another 
taste  of  the  fun  which  is  made  of  a  greenhorn.  The  "  settle 
ment"  consisted  of  a  cabin  of  a  family  named  Benson.  Wal 
lace's  own  account  of  the  incident  is  as  follows  :  "  I  went  up  to 
this  house  to  see  if  any  thing  in  the  way  of  vegetables  could 
be  had.  Benson  was  out  hunting,  but  his  wife,  a  tall,  raw- 
boned,  hard-favored  woman,  as  soon  as  she  saw  me  '  coming, 
stepped  to  the  door  with  a  gun  in  her  hand,  and  told  me  to 
6  stand ' — and  I  stood  !  A  half-dozen  little  cotton-headed  chil 
dren,  who  who  were  playing  in  the  yard,  discovered  me  at  this 
moment,  and  they  '  squandered '  and  squatted  in  the  bushes  like 
a  gang  of  partridges. 


884  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

"'Who  are  you?'  asked  Mrs.  Benson,  pointing  her  gun  right 
at  me,  '  and  what  do  you  want  here  ?' 

" '  I  am  from  the  settlements  below,  ma'am,'  said  I,  as  polite 
as  possible,  but  keeping  a  tree  between  the  good  lady  and 
myself  all  the  time,  for  women,  you  know,  are  very  awkward 
about  handling  fire-arms,  6  and,'  I  continued,  '  I  want  to  buy 
some  vegetables,  if  you  have  any  to  sell.' 

"  '  Well,'  she  answered,  '  come  in.  We  hain't  no  vegetables 
left  now,'  as  I  walked  into  the  cabin  and  took  a  seat  on  a  bench, 
'  except  cowcumbers  and  mushmillions,  and  maybe  so,  a  few 
"  collards,"  the  dratted  "  varmints "  are  so  uncommon  bad  on 
'em ;  but,  if  you  want  any  of  them,  you  can  go  into  the  truck 
patch  and  help  yourself.' 

"'You  seem,'  I  ventured  to  remark,  'a  little  suspicious  of 
strangers  in  these  parts,  from  the  way  you  handled  your  gun.' 

" '  Yes,'  she  said,  '  I  am,  and  a  good  reason  to  be  so,  too  ! 
Only  last  Saturday  was  a  week,  some  Lonk  Ingens,  dressed  up 
like  white  folks,  walked  into  'Squire  Henry's  house,  not  more 
than  two  miles  from  here,  and  killed  and  sculped  the  whole 
family;  but  as  luck  would  have  it,  there  was  nobody  at  home, 
except  the  baby  and  an  old  nigger  woman  that  nussed  it.  And 
which  way  are  you  traveling  to  ?'  she  asked. 

"  I  told  her  we  were  going  up  on  the  head-waters  of  the 
Brazos  to  survey  lands.  '  Well,'  says  she,  '  you  '11  be  luckier 
than  most  every  body  else  that  has  gone  up  there  if  you  need 
more  than  six  feet  apiece  before  you  get  back.  If  I  was  your 
mammy,  young  man,  you  should  n't  go  one  step  on  such  a  wild 
goose  chase.'  After  some  further  questioning,  she  showed  me 
the  way  to  the  '  truck  patch,'  and,  after  filling  my  wallet  with 
6  mushmillions '  and  '  cowcumbers,'  I  thanked  her,  as  she  would 
take  no  pay.  '  Good-bye,  young  man.  I  feel  mighty  sorry 
for  your  mammy,  for  you'll  never  see  her  again."3 

A  day  or  two  later  some  of  the  men  found  a  "  bee  tree," 
which  they  cut  down,  getting  five  gallons  of  honey.  Bear's 
meat  and  honey  is  the  frontiersman's  choicest  dish.  As  the 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  885 

days  advanced  the  little  mountain  streams,  which  they  came 
across,  supplied  the  men  with  delicious  trout.  Besides  this 
they  found  artichokes  in  abundance,  roasting  the  root  in  the 
ashes  like  a  potato. 

There  were  numerous  signs  of  both  Indian  and  buffalo  to  be 
seen  by  this  time,  but  neither  animal  had  yet  been  actually 
perceived.  One  evening,  after  camp  was  struck,  Big  Foot,  as 
people  now  call  him,  went  out  to  look  around  for  game.  He 
was  sitting  on  a  log  in  a  little  ravine  with  his  gun  across  his 
lap,  when,  hearing  a  noise  in  some  bushes,  he  turned  around, 
and  discovered  a  large  bear  coming  toward  him.  When  the 
animal  was  within  twenty  feet  the  hunter  fired,  and  killed  him. 
This  event,  which  supplied  the  camp  with  its  favorite  food, 
greatly  increased  the  reputation  of  the  youngest  member  of  the 
company.  On  October  21st  the  party  struck  the  Leon  River, 
opposite  the  mouth  of  Armstrong's  Creek.  Here  they  found  a 
splendid  pecan  grove.  The  nuts  were  very  large  and  the  hulls  so 
thin  that  the  men  easily  crushed  them  in  their  fingers. 

Following  the  course  of  Armstrong's  Creek,  the  men  pitched 
camp  one  evening  near  a  lovely  spring.  Toward  midnight  the 
sleeping  company  was  awakened  by  the  report  of  a  gun  right 
in  their  midst.  Every  man  sprang  to  his  feet,  supposing  Indians 
were  at  hand.  It  transpired,  however,  that  the  man  on  guard 
had  fired  his  gun  accidentally.  So  excited  was  Wallace  by  the 
incident  that  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  could  go  to  sleep. 

On  the  23d  of  October,  1837,  the  explorers  reached  the 
south  branch  of  the  Palo  Rinto  Creek,  where  the  surveying 
was  to  begin.  A  pleasant  situation  being  chosen,  all  hands  fell 
to  work  to  build  a  permanent  camp,  with  walls,  roof  and  floor. 
This  done,  the  men  resolved  to  rest  on  the  following  day.  Some 
went  fishing,  others  gathered  pecans,  others  still  busied  them 
selves  fitting  up  little  comforts  about  the  camp. 

Big  Foot  soon  got  tired  of  this,  and  taking  his  gun,  resolved 
to  explore  a  little  of  the  country  around  them.  He  strolled  off 
in  the  direction  of  a  pass  which  seemed  to  penetrate  the  encir- 


886  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

cling  range  of  hills.  In  a  little  while  he  reached  the  pass. 
Right  by  it  was  a  single  hill,  shaped  like  a  sugar  loaf,  to  the 
top  of  which  Big  Foot  climbed.  This  gave  him  a  good  view 
of  the  valley  in  which  they  had  encamped.  A  mile  and  a  half 
away  he  saw  the  snug  little  house  which  they  had  built  for 
th^ir  shelter,  the  smoke  rising  from  the  camp  fire,  the  animals 
grazing  about  contentedly,  and  even  three  or  four  of  the  men  sit 
ting  around  smoking  their  pipes.  As  he  looked  upon  the  scene, 
Big  Foot  felt  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  to  think  they  were  so  com 
fortably  quartered.  Little  did  he  think  that  it  was  the  last  time 
he  would  ever  look  upon  that  camp. 

He  descended  the  hill  and  took  his  way  up  the  pass,  and, 
after  following  it  half  a  mile,  found  himself  in  a  narrow  valley 
filled  with  a  grove  of  the  finest  pecan  trees.  He  was  sitting  at 
the  foot  of  one  of  the  trees,  leisurely  cracking  and  eating  the 
nuts,  when,  looking  down  in  the  direction  he  had  come,  he  saw 
a  party  of  twelve  or  fifteen  Indians  riding  through  the  pass  at 
full  speed.  There  was  no  chance  for  concealment  where  he  was, 
and  the  perpendicular  sides  of  the  valley  prevented  escape  from 
it.  His  only  hope  lay  in  hurrying  up  the  valley  until  he  could 
reach  some  canon  or  ravine  into  which  he  might  dodge. 

He  at  once  started  up  the  pass  or  valley  as  fast  as  he  could 
go.  When  he  had  passed  the  pecan  grove  the  Indians  caught 
sight  of  him,  and  with  yells  and  whoops  began  pursuit.  The 
ground  was  broken  and  intersected  with  gullies,  so  that  for  a 
half  an  hour  the  Indians  on  their  ponies  gained  but  little  upon 
Big  Foot. 

The  young  man  hurried  on,  looking  eagerly  for  some  open 
ing  in  the  hills  on  either  side,  but  the  solid  walls  of  rock  were 
unbroken.  When  he  reached  a  place  where  the  floor  of  the  val 
ley  was  smooth  the  Indians  gained  rapidly.  Just  in  time  to 
save  himself  he  discovered  an  opening  in  the  wall  of  the  pass  on 
the  left,  and  made  for  it.  He  found  himself  in  a  ravine,  impass 
able  for  horses,  and  so  rough  that  he  himself  could  hardly  get 
along  on  foot. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          887 

Aware  that  the  Indians  would  dismount  from  their  ponies 
and  continue  the  chase  on  foot,  he  continued  his  race  up  the 
ravine,  bounding  from  rock  to  rock  and  leaping  chasms,  until  he 
had  traversed  several  miles,  winding  in  and  out  along  the  dark 
and  crooked  canon. 

Feeling  his  strength  somewhat  abated,  Big  Foot  paused  for 
the  first  time  to  take  a  rest.  For  this  purpose  he  chose  a  spot 
which  commanded  a  view  for  several  hundred  yards  along  the 
way  which  he  had  come.  He  had  sat  still  but  a  little  while, 
when  an  Indian  came  in  sight,  making  rapid  time  up  the  ravine. 
Big  Foot  concealed  himself  behind  a  large  rock,  and,  placing  his 
gun  in  position,  resolved  to  shoot  the  savage  if  possible. 

The  Indian  hurried  along,  unconscious  of  Wallace's  where 
abouts.  When  within  twenty  steps  of  Big  Foot,  the  latter  gave 
a  low  whistle.  The  Indian  instantly  stopped,  and  gave  a  swift 
and  searching  glance  about  him.  He  was  just  on  the  brink  of 
a  fearful  precipice.  At  that  moment  Big  Foot  fired.  The  sav 
age,  mortally  wounded,  with  a  cry  of  despair,  threw  one  hand 
to  the  wound  in  his  side,  and  holding  aloft  his  rifle  in  the  other, 
leaped  over  the  fearful  precipice.  Before  the  echoes  of  his  wild 
scream  had  died  away  among  the  mountains,  a  terrific  thud  was 
heard  by  Wallace,  as  the  body  of  his  enemy  was  dashed  into 
atoms  upon  the  rocks  far  below. 

Big  Foot  reloaded  his  rifle,  and,  fearful  lest  others  might  be 
about,  hurried  on  up  the  ravine.  Half  a  mile  farther  he  discov 
ered  another  canon  intersecting  the  one  he  was  traversing.  He 
entered  the  latter  and,  though  long  since  out  of  sight  and  sound 
of  the  Indians,  continued  on  his  way,  until  it  became  so  dark 
that  he  was  in  danger  of  breaking  his  neck  stumbling  over  the 
rocks.  Crawling  into  a  little  crevice,  he  lay  down  supperless,  and 
passed  the  night.  On  the  following  morning,  he  found  himself 
in  a  locality  to  which  he  was,  of  course,  a  total  stranger. 

To  return  by  the  way  he  had  come  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 
He  determined  to  strike  across  the  country  in  the  direction  in 
which  he  thought  the  camp  lay.  His  way  lay  over  ridges  of 


888 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


rocky  hills,  separated  by  canons   and  almost  impassable   even 
for  a  man  on  foot.     About  noon,  almost  worn  out,  he  reached 


WALLACE  KILLS  HIS  INDIAN   PURSUER. 


a  little  creek.  He  threw  himself  on  the  ground.  In  a  few 
moments  he  was  thrilled  with  delight  to  discover  a  large  buck 
approaching  the  water  to  drink.  Raising  his  rifle  cautiously,  for 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          889 

he  felt  that  his  life  depended  on  his  success  in  killing  the  game, 
Wallace  fired.  The  animal  bounded  away  as  if  unhurt.  After 
a  few  leaps  he  stopped  short,  began  to  reel  from  side  to  side, 
and  in  a  moment  fell  over  dead.  Wallace  ran  out  and  instantly 
began  to  dress  the  buck,  which  was  one  of  the  fattest  he  ever 
saw.  After  roasting  a  good  lot  of  the  meat  and  eating  a  hearty 
dinner,  he  built  a  low  scaffold  of  little  poles,  cut  up  a  quantity 
of  the  meat  into  thin  slices,  laid  them  across  the  poles,  built  a 
fire  underneath,  and  by  dark  had  enough  venison  "jerked "  to- 
last  him  several  days. 

Looking  about  for  a  place  to  pass  the  night,  he  found  a 
small  cave.  Into  this  he  carried  a  quantity  of  grass  for  a  bed, 
and  here,  also,  he  carefully  stored  his  dried  venison.  He  blocked 
up  the  door  of  the  cave  with  rocks,  after  going  in  himself,  and 
prepared  to  pass  a  comfortable  night.  In  less  than  an  hour 
a  heavy  rain  came  up,  accompanied  by  a  cold  wind.  But  Big 
Foot  slept  snug  in  his  cave,  undisturbed  alike  by  the  storm 
and  by  the  howling  of  the  wolves  who  were  holding  a  cele 
bration  over  the  remains  of  the  deer  which  he  had  killed. 
When  morning  came  Wallace  found  the  rain  had  ceased,  but 
the  sun  was  obscured  by  heavy  clouds.  Being  then  an  inex 
perienced  woodsman,  he  had  no  way  to  tell  the  points  of  the 
compass.  Later  in  life,  Big  Foot  says,  he  could  tell  the  points 
of  the  compass  as  well  without  as  with  the  sun,  by  the  bark 
on  the  trees,  which  is  thicker  on  the  north  side,  or  by  stick 
ing  a  pin  into  a  piece  of  white  cloth  or  paper.  In  the  cloud 
iest  day  the  dim  light  will  cast  a  faint  shadow  opposite  the 
sun,  and  thus  point  out  its  position. 

However,  our  wanderer  ate  his  breakfast  and  started  in 
what  he  supposed  to  be  the  right  direction.  His  course  as 
before  lay  through  a  wilderness  of  rock.  He  continually  found 
impassable  ravines  and  gulches  in  his  way,  forcing  him  to  make 
long  detours.  About  noon  he  came  to  a  pleasant  spring,  where 
he  ate  his  dinner.  Near  by,  he  picked  up  some  round  stones, 
which  proved  to  be  garnets.  A  still  greater  curiosity  was  a. 


890  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

petrified  forest.  "  The  trees  were  all  lying  on  the  ground,  as 
if  they  had  been  blown  down  by  a  heavy  wind,  but  in  some 
instances  they  were  nearly  whole,  even  the  small  twigs  and 
branches  being  petrified." 

Continuing  on  his  course  through  the  day,  Big  Foot  suffered 
greatly  from  want  of  water.  He  was  forced  to  go  to  sleep  that 
night  without  having  found  any.  In  the  morning  when  he  awoke 
the  first  sound  which  his  ear  caught  was  that  of  the  falling  of 
water.  He  ran  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  discovered  that 
he  had  passed  the  night,  almost  crazy  with  thirst,  not  fifty  yards 
from  the  finest  spring  he  had  ever  seen.  It  broke  out  of  the 
side  of  a  cliff  in  a  stream  as  large  as  his  body,  and  fell  in  a  beau 
tiful  cascade  to  the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  twenty  feet  below. 

Near  the  spring  were  the  remains  of  two  Indian  camps. 
Here  Big  Foot  picked  up  a  gourd,  which  the  occupants  of  the 
camp  had  left.  As  it  would  hold  about  two  quarts,  he  regarded 
it  as  a  treasure  of  priceless  value,  enabling  him  to  carry  water 
along  with  him.  Taking  some  broad  bands  of  bear-grass,  he 
made  a  bail  with  which  to  carry  it. 

While  eating  his  breakfast,  Wallace  discovered  some  sort  of 
an  animal  poking  its  head  out  of  a  crevice  in  the  rock  and  look 
ing  at  him  intently.  At  first  it  looked  like  a  wolf.  Then  he  saw 
it  was  a  dog.  Pleased  with  the  idea  of  companionship,  Wal 
lace  whistled  and  called  to  the  dog.  To  these  "signs,  it  paid  no 
further  heed  than  to  continue  to  look  wistfully  from  its  hiding 
place.  Finally  in  response  to  the  offer  of  a  bit  of  meat,  the  dog 
stole  cautiously  forward,  and  eagerly  snatched  the  venison. 
"  He  was  "  said  Wallace,  "  the  most  wretched  specimen  of  a  dog 
I  had  ever  seen.  Both  of  his  ears  were  cut  off  close  to  his 
head,  and  he  had  been  starved  to  such  a  degree  that  he  looked 
for  all  the  world  like  a  pile  of  bones  loosely  packed  in  a  sack 
of  hair  and  hide.  He  was  too  weak  to  hold  his  tail  up,  which 
dragged  on  the  ground  like  a  wolf's." 

The  two  wanderers  soon  made  friends.  Wallace  named  the 
dog  "  Comanche  ;"  what  the  dog  named  Wallace  does  not  appear. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          891 

Henceforth  they  were  inseparable.  After  traveling  for  a  week, 
the  sun,  shone  out  for  the  first  time  since  the  night  passed  in 
the  cave.  To  his  dismay,  Wallace  discovered  that  he  had  been 
traveling  in  exactly  the  wrong  direction.  He  had  been  going  north 
instead  of  south. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  day's  journey  southward,  Wallace, 
standing  on  the  top  of  a  high  ridge,  found  himself  overlooking 
a  beautiful  little  valley.  He  and  Comanche  at  once  made  their 
way  thither.  A  cool  spring  of  water  was  found,  and  near  by, 
in  a  ledge  of  rock,  Wallace  found  a  small  cave,  about  twelve 
feet  square.  The  front  had  been  walled  up  evidently  by  a 
human  hand,  with  a  small  entrance  way  left  open.  The  floor 
was  smooth,  dry  rock,  and  no  better  protection  from  the  weather 
could  be  desired.  A  bed  of  dried  grass  made  both  the  man  and 
dog  comfortable. 

Proceeding  down  the  valley  the  next  day,  Wallace  saw 
plenty  of  deer  and  wild  turkeys,  but  as  he  still  had  some  veni 
son  he  refrained  from  using  his  ammunition.  In  climbing  a 
hill,  Wallace  met  with  an  unhappy  accident.  His  foot  slipped 
on  a  loose  stone,  and  he  gave  his  ankle  a  terrible  sprain.  It 
was  impossible  to  bear  the  slightest  weight  upon  it.  It  was 
evident  that  he  must  remain  where  he  was  until  the  injured 
member  got  well. 

With  great  pain  and  difficulty  Wallace  crawled  back  to 
where  he  had  passed  the  night.  He  bathed  his  swollen  limb 
in  the  spring,  and,  suffering  greatly,  crawled  into  the  cave. 
While  the  prospect  was  not  so  bad  as  it  might  have  been,  inas 
much  as  the  accident  might  have  occurred  at  a  point  where 
no  shelter  was  obtainable,  nevertheless,  Wallace  felt  that  his 
inability  to  hunt  game  and  procure  food  rendered  the  emergency 
one  of  great  danger. 

He  slept  somewhat  through  the  night  and  was  awakened  in 
the  morning  by  the  flapping  of  wild  turkeys'  wings.  Crawling 
to  the  door  of  the  cave,  he  discovered  several  of  the  birds  in  a 
clump  of  neighboring  pecan  trees.  Selecting  the  largest  gobbler, 


892  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Big  Foot  fired,  bringing  him  down.  Comanche  understood  the 
situation  perfectly.  He  bounded  to  the  spot,  seized  the  turkey 
by  the  neck,  and  dragged  it  to  the  door  of  the  cave.  Wallace 
dressed  the  bird  nicely,  spitted  him  on  the  ramrod  of  his  gun, 
and  in  two  hours  had  him  beautifully  roasted.  The  remainder 
of  the  day  Wallace  devoted  to  the  manufacture  of  a  rude  crutch 
out  of  the  forked  limb  of  a  pecan  tree.  He  had  to  whittle  the 
whole  tree  down  in  order  to  reach  the  branch. 

Wallace  was  forced  to  remain  where  he  was  three  weeks, 
during  which  time  he  had  an  abundance  of  food,  suffering  only 
from  want  of  salt.  On  the  20th  of  November  Big  Foot  felt 
well  enough  to  travel.  Comanche,  too,  seemed  ready.  The 
dog  could  not  be  recognized  as  the  same  wretched  cur  we  have 
described.  He  was  fat,  sleek,  and  his  tail  had  a  defiant  curl. 
Ten  miles  was  all  the  distance  Wallace  was  able  to  travel  that 
day.  He  killed  a  fat  doe  and  found  some  artichokes,  which  he 
relished  exceedingly.  He  observed  with  some  uneasiness  the 
presence  of  Indian  signs.  That  night,  too,  Comanche  woke  him 
several  times  with  his  growling.  On  these  occasions  his  master, 
supposing  the  wolves  to  be  unusually  bold,  would  simply  say, 
"Lie  still,  sir!" 

Just  at  sunrise  the  dog  again  set  up  a  furious  barking,  wak 
ing  his  master.  Wallace  looked  up  to  discover  a  dozen  Indians 
fifty  yards  away  coming  toward  him  on  a  dead  run.  He  seized 
his  gun  and  jumped  behind  a  tree,  only  to  perceive  that  he  was 
completely  surrounded.  Just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  firing 
at  the  nearest  Indian,  the  chief  shouted  to  his  braves,  who 
halted.  He  then  stepped  forward,  and  asked  Wallace  in  the 
Mexican  tongue  who  he  was.  Big  Foot  explained  as  well  as 
he  could  by  signs  and  a  few  phrases  which  he  knew,  that  he 
was  an  American  and  was  lost.  The  chief  motioned  energetic 
ally  for  him  to  put  down  his  gun.  Seeing  that  escape  was 
impossible  Big  Foot,  in  hopes  that  his  life  might  be  spared, 
obeyed.  The  Indians  at  once  sprang  forward  and  bound  Wal 
lace.  Comanche,  however,  had  no  notion  of  surrendering,  and 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          893 

at  once  went  for  the  Indians  who  were  tying  his  master.  Nor 
would  he  give  up  the  fight  until  kicked  and  severely  beaten. 

The  savages  at  once  started  with  their  prisoner  down  the 
valley.  After  traveling  five  miles  they  reached  their  village,  a 
crowd  of  old  men,  women,  and  boys  coming  out  to  assault  Big 
Foot.  He  was  placed  in  a  lodge  under  guard.  The  next  morn 
ing  a  hideous,  old  squaw,  with  a  face  as  wrinkled  as  a  walnut, 
brought  him  his  breakfast.  Ugly  as  she  was,  Big  Foot  under 
stood  from  her  face  and  manner  that  she  desired  to  be  friendly. 

After  she  left  the  lodge  Big  Foot  heard  a  tremendous  row 
outside,  and  two  warriors  came  in  and  painted  him  black.  At 
this  point  Big  Foot  gave  up  all  hope  of  his  life.  When  painted 
from  head  to  foot  the  savages  led  him  out  doors,  where  the 
whole  village  was  assembled,  and  proceeded  to  bind  him  firmly 
to  a  post  in  the  ground.  Near  by  was  a  great  heap  of  dry 
wood.  Twenty  naked  warriors,  blacked  from  head  to  foot, 
armed  with  tomahawks  and  scalping-knives,  stood  by  in  grim 
silence,  waiting  to  commence  the  death  ceremony. 

The  chief  now  arose,  and  from  a  little  platform  he  made  a 
speech  to  his  people.  Wallace  says,  "  I  could  understand  but 
little  of  what  he  said,  but  it  seemed  to  me,  he  was  telling  them 
how  the  white  people  had  encroached  upon  them,  and  stolen 
from  them  their  hunting  grounds,  and  that  it  was  a  good  deed 
to  burn  every  one  of  the  hated  race  that  fell  into  their  hands." 

The  speech  ended,  the  twenty  black  warriors  commenced 
piling  up  the  wood  about  Wallace,  while  the  rest  executed  a 
wild  death  dance  about  him.  Just  at  this  moment  the  old 
squaw,  who  had  been  so  friendly  to  him  in  the  lodge,  broke 
through  the  crowd  and  began  to  throw  the  wood  from  around 
him,  talking  and  gesticulating  in  the  wildest  manner.  When  they 
seized  her  and  threw  her  outside  of  the  ring,  she  commenced  a 
shrill  and  voluble  harangue  to  the  crowd,  in  the  midst  of  which 
she  frequently  pointed  to  the  prisoner,  and  boldly  shook  her  fist, 
with  horrid  jabbering,  at  his  would-be  executioners. 

As  the  old  woman  proceeded  with  her  harangue  she  gained 

50 


894  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

more  and  more  attention  from  the  crowd,  seeing  which,  her  vio 
lence  and  energy  redoubled  itself.  Her  voice  broke  with  the 
fury  of  her  passion,  but  still  she  kept  on  with  ear-piercing 
screams  and  howls,  which  rose  higher  and  higher,  until  they 
formed  a  mighty  wail,  sounding  far  down  the  valley.  By  this 
time  the  whole  assemblage  became  perfectly  silent.  As  the  old 
woman's  strength  was  about  to  fail  her,  a  great  jabbering  set  up 
in  the  crowd,  in  the  midst  of  which  a  number  of  squaws  ran  to 
the  stake,  and  scolding  the  warriors  all  the  while,  quickly  un 
bound  Wallace  and  handed  him  over  to  the  old  woman. 

The  singular  scene  grew  out  of  the  fact  that  the  old  squaw, 
having  lost  a  son  in  battle,  claimed  Big  Foot  as  a  substitute  in 
accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  tribe,  but  the  warriors  wanted 
to  have  the  fun  of  putting  their  prisoner  to  death. 

Big  Foot's  adopted  mother  took  him  to  her  lodge  with  every 
sign  of  gratified  affection.  In  a  little  while  the  squaws  brought 
him  his  gun,  knife,  and  gourd.  Even  Comanche  was  hunted  up 
and  brought  to  him.  The  dog  looked  half  starved  and  as  if  he 
had  been  kicked  by  every  boy  in  the  village.  Big  Foot,  with 
cool  adaptation  to  circumstances  which  no  man  ever  had  but  a 
genuine  Texan  Ranger,  proceeded  to  ransack  the  wigwam  for 
cold  victuals,  and  gave  the  dog  every  thing  he  found. 

Besides  the  old  squaw,  Big  Foot  found  a  firm  friend  in  her 
remaining  son,  his  adopted  brother,  Black  Wolf.  As  time  went 
on,  the  chief  wanted  Big  Foot  to  marry  his  sister,  but  the  white 
man  told  him  that  he  preferred  to  live  in  the  lodge  with  his 
mother  and  brother.  Black  Wolf  was  an  Indian  of  intelligence 
and  kindness.  He  never  wearied  of  asking  Big  Foot  about  the 
white  race.  All  the  information  which  Wallace  gave  him  of 
their  numbers,  their  cities,  their  weapons,  and  their  great 
"steam  canoes,"  strengthened  him  in  his  opinion,  he  said,  that 
the  white  man  would  gradually  overrun  the  entire  continent, 
and  that  a  few  stone  arrow-heads,  thrown  up  here  and  there 
by  the  farmer's  plow,  would  be  all  that  remained  of  the  red 
man's  race.  In  this  connection  Black  Wolf  related  to  Big  Foot 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  895 

the    following   legend,  which,   he   said,  had   been  told  him  by 
his  father. 

"A  great  many  years  ago,"  said  Black  Wolf,  "a  young  chief, 
belonging  to  one  of  the  most  powerful  tribes  of  Arkansas,  con 
cluded  that  he  would  visit  one  of  the  nearest  white  settlements, 
and  see  some  of  the  people  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much. 
So  he  took  his  gun  and  dog,  and  crossed  the  ' father  of  waters' 
in  his  canoe,  and  traveled  many  days  toward  the  rising  of  the 
sun,  through  a  dense  forest  that  had  never  echoed  to  the  sound 
of  the  white  man's  ax.  One  day,  just  as  the  sun  was  setting, 
he  came  to  the  top  of  a  high  hill,  and  four  or  five  miles  away 
in  the  valley  below,  he  saw  the  smoke  curling  up  from  the  chim 
neys  of  the  most  western  settlement,  at  that  time,  east  of  the 
Mississippi  River. 

"As  it  was  too  late  to  reach  the  settlement  before  dark,  the 
chief  sought  out  the  thickest  part  of  the  woods,  where  he  spread 
his  blanket  upon  the  ground,  and  laid  himself  down  upon  it,  with 
the  intention  of  passing  the  night  there.  He  had  scarcely  set 
tled  himself  there  when  he  heard  a  halloo  a  long  way  off  among 
the  hills.  Supposing  that  some  one  had  got  lost  in  the  woods, 
he  raised  himself  up,  and  shouted  as  loud  as  he  could.  Again 
he  heard  the  halloo,  apparently  a  little  nearer,  but  it  sounded  so 
mournful  and  so  wild,  and  so  unlike  the  voice  of  any  living 
being,  that  he  became  alarmed,  and  did  not  shout  in  return. 

"After  a  while,  however,  the  long,  mournful  '  halloo-o-o '  was 
repeated,  and  this  time  much  nearer  than  before.  The  chief's 
heart  beat  loudly  in  his  bosom,  and  a  cold  sweat  broke  out 
upon  his  forehead,  for  he  knew  that  the  unearthly  sounds  that 
met  his  ears  never  came  from  mortal  lips.  His  very  dog,  too, 
seemed  to  understand  this,  for  he  whined  and  cowered  down  at 
his  feet,  seemingly  in  the  greatest  dread.  Again  the  mournful 
and  prolonged  "  halloo-o-o  "  was  heard,  and  this  time  close  at 
hand,  and  in  a  few  moments  an  Indian  warrior  stalked  up  and 
took  a  seat  near  the  chief,  and  gazed  mournfully  at  him  out  of 
his  hollow  eyes  without  uttering  a  word. 


896  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

"  He  was  dressed  in  a  different  garb  from  any  thing  the  chief 
had  ever  seen  worn  by  the  Indians,  and  he  held  a  bow  in  his 
withered  hand  and  a  quiver  filled  with  arrows  was  slung  across 
his  shoulders.  As  the  chief  looked  more  closely  at  him,  he  saw 
that  this  unearthly  visitor  was,  in  fact,  a  grinning  skeleton,  for 
his  white  ribs  showed  plainly  through  the  rents  in  his  robe,  and 
though  seemingly  he  looked  at  the  chief,  there  were  no  eyes  in 
the  empty  sockets  he  turned  toward  him. 

"  Presently  the  figure  rose  up,  and,  in  a  hollow  voice,  spoke  to 
the  chief,  and  told  him  to  return  from  whence  he  came,  for  their 
race  was  doomed ;  that  they  would  disappear  before  the  white 
people  like  dew  before  the  morning  sun;  that  he  was  the  spirit 
of  one  of  his  forefathers,  and  that  he  came  to  warn  him  of  the 
fate  that  awaited  him  and  his  people ;  that  he  could  remember 
when  the  Indians  were  as  numerous  as  the  leaves  on  the  trees, 
and  the  white  people  were  few  and  weak,  and  shut  up  in  their 
towns  upon  the  seashore — now  they  are  strong,  and  their  num 
ber  can  not  be  counted,  and  before  many  years  they  will  drive 
the  last  remnant  of  the  red  race  into  the  waters  of  the  great 
western  ocean.  '  Go  back,'  said  the  figure,  advancing  toward 
the  chief  and  waving  his  withered  hand,  '  and  tell  your  people 
to  prepare  themselves  for  their  doom,  and  to  meet  me  in  the 
"  happy  hunting  grounds,"  where  the  white  man  shall  trouble 
them  no  more.' 

"As  he  said  this,  he  came  up  close  to  the  chief,  and  placed 
his  skeleton  fingers  on  his  head,  and  glared  at  him  out  of  the 
empty  sockets  in  his  fleshless  skull.  '  Son  of  a  fading  race, 
the  last  hour  of  your  unfortunate  people  is  fast  approaching, 
and  soon  not  a  vestige  of  them  will  be  left  on  all  this  wide 
continent.  They  and  their  forests,  their  hunting  grounds,  their 
villages  and  wigwams,  will  disappear  forever,  and  the  white 
man's  cities  and  towns  will  rise  up  in  places  where  once  they 
chased  the  buffalo,  the  elk,  and  the  deer.' 

"  The  chief  was  as  fearless  a  warrior  as  ever  went  to  battle, 
but  when  he  felt  the  cold  touch  of  that  skeleton  hand,  a  horrible 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  897 

dread  took  possession  of  him,  and  he  remembered  nothing  of 
what  happened  afterward.  In  the  morning,  when  he  woke  up, 
the  sun  was  shining  brightly  overhead,  and  the  birds  were 
whistling  and  chirping  in  the  trees  above  him.  He  looked 
around  for  his  gun,  and  was  surprised  beyond  measure  when  he 
picked  it  up  that  the  barrel  was  all  eaten  up  with  rust,  and 
the  stock  so  decayed  and  rotten  that  it  all  fell  to  pieces  in  his 
hand.  His  dog  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  he  whistled  and 
called  to  him  in  vain,  but  at  his  feet  he  saw  a  heap  of  white 
bones,  among  which  there  was  a  skeleton  of  a  neck  with  the 
collar  his  dog  had  worn  still  around  it!  He  then  noticed  that 
his  buckskin  hunting-shirt  was  decayed  and  mildewed,  and 
hung  in  tatters  upon  him,  and  that  his  hair  had  grown  so  long 
that  it  reached  down  nearly  to  his  waist. 

"  Bewildered  by  all  these  sudden  and  curious  changes,  he 
took  his  way  toward  the  top  of  the  hill,  from  which,  the  even 
ing  before,  he  had  seen  the  smoke  rising  up  from  the  cabins  of 
the  frontier  settlement,  and  what  was  his  astonishment,  when 
he  saw,  spread  out  in  the  valley  below  him,  a  great  city,  with 
its  spires  and  steeples  rising  up,  as  far  as  his  eye  could  extend, 
and,  in  place  of  the  dense,  unbroken  forests,  that  covered  the 
earth  when  he  came,  a  wide,  open  country  presented  itself  to 
his  view,  fenced  up  into  fields  and  pastures,  and  dotted  over 
with  the  white  man's  stately  houses  and  buildings. 

"As  he  gazed  at  all  this,  in  surprise  and  wonder,  he  could 
distinctly  hear,  from  where  he  stood,  the  distant  hum  of  the 
vast  multitude,  who  were  laboring  and  trafficking  and  moving 
about  in  the  great  city  below  him.  Sad  and  dispirited,  he 
turned  his  course  homeward,  and,  after  traveling  many  days, 
through  farms  and  villages  and  towns,  he  at  length  reached  once 
more  the  banks  of  the  mighty  Mississippi.  But  the  white  peo 
ple  had  got  there  before  him,  and,  in  place  of  a  silent  and  lonely 
forest,  he  found  a  large  town  built  up  where  it  had  once  stood, 
and  saw  a  huge  steamboat  puffing  and  paddling  along  right 
where  he  had  crossed  the  ' father  of  waters'  in  his  little  canoe. 


898  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

"  When  he  had  crossed  the  river,  he  found  that  the  white  set 
tlements  had  gone  on  a  long  ways  beyond  it,  but  at  length  he 
came  to  the  wilderness  again,  and  after  wandering  about  for 
many  moons,  he  at  last  came  up  with  the  remnant  of  his  peo 
ple,  but  now  no  longer  a  powerful  tribe  such  as  he  had  left 
them,  for  they  had  dwindled  down  to  a  mere  handful.  His 
father  and  mother  were  dead,  his  brothers  and  sisters  were  all 
dead,  and  no  one  knew  the  poor  old  warrior  that  had  appeared 
so  suddenly  among  them.  For  awhile  he  stayed  with  them  and 
talked  in  the  strangest  way,  about  things  that  had  happened 
long  before  the  oldest  people  in  the  tribe  were  born ;  but  one 
day  after  telling  the  story  I  have  told  you,  he  took  his  way 
toward  the  setting  sun,  and  was  never  seen  more." 

After  Big  Foot  had  been  in  the  Indian  village  three  months 
he  became  exceedingly  weary  of  his  surroundings  and  longed 
only  to  be  able  to  return  to  the  settlements.  Black  Wolf  and 
his  mother  noticed  his  moodiness  and  discontent. 

One  day  when  they  were  alone  in  the  lodge,  Black  Wolf 
asked  Wallace  why  he  seemed  so  unhappy.  When  told  that  it 
was  because  he  pined  to  see  his  own  people,  the  Indian  did  not 
seem  surprised,  but  sadly  said :  "  Sorry  as  I  am,  I  will  do  all 
that  I  can  to  help  you  to  get  back  to  your  people."  The  prepa 
rations  for  flight  must,  he  said,  be  made  in  secrecy,  as  if 
Big  Foot  should  be  recaptured  nothing  could  save  his  life, 
and  Black  Wolf  *  himself  would  be  put  to  death  for  having 
aided  him. 

The  old  squaw  received  the  news  of  Big  Foot's  intended 
departure  with  much  less  composure  than  her  son.  However, 
in  time  she  became  more  resigned,  and  at  parting  gave  him  a 
dried  terrapin's  tail,  which,  she  said,  would  protect  him  from 
all  danger  in  battle. 

When  their  preparations  were  completed,  Black  Wolf  gave 
out  that  he  and  his  white  brother  were  going  out  on  a  bear 
hunt,  to  be  gone  several  days.  Taking  the  faithful  Comanche, 
Big  Foot  bade  adieu  to  his  adopted  mother,  and  left  the  Indian 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  899 

village  forever.  He  and  Black  Wolf  traveled  together  for  thirty 
miles.  The  Indian  was  overcome  by  deep  melancholy,  yet  he 
would  from  time  to  time  try  to  throw  it  off  by  cheerful  conver 
sation.  After  camping  together  for  the  last  time,  the  two  men 
ate  their  breakfast,  and  then  Black  Wolf  marked  out  upon  the 
ground  a  rough  map  of  the  country  through  which  Wallace 
was  to  pass  on  his  way  home.  After  giving  full  and  careful 
directions,  the  Indian  shouldered  his  gun,  bade  his  white  brother 
farewell,  and  sorrowfully  taking  his  way  back  toward  the  village, 
was  soon  lost  to  sight  among  the  hills.  Big  Foot,  accompanied 
by  Comanche,  made  his  way  home  to  the  settlements,  reaching 
them  early  in  March  1838. 

Some  months  after  Wallace's  return  from  captivity,  late  one 
winter  afternoon,  he  picked  up  his  gun  and  started  for  some 
neighboring  hills  to  bring  in  some  venison.  No  game  seemed  to 
be  stirring,  and  after  keeping  on  till  it  had  grown  too  dark  to 
shoot,  he  reluctantly  returned  homeward  without  the  venison. 
The  sun  had  set,  and  he  hurried  along  to  get  out  of  the  chap 
arral  thickets  into  the  open  prairie  before  night  came  on.  The 
wolves  had  been  howling  unusually,  but  Wallace  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  the  matter.  He  had  gone  about  a  half  a  mile  on  his 
homeward  way,  when  a  large  gray  wolf  trotted  out  into  the 
path  before  him,  and  commenced  howling  in  the  most  mournful 
manner.  In  an  instant  he  was  answered  by  a  dozen  other 
wolves  in  the  hills  around  him. 

Feeling  somewhat  nervous,  Wallace  shot  the  wolf,  and  started 
on  again,  this  time  in  a  run.  The  rest  of  the  story  we  give  from 
Big  Foot's  own  published  account.  "The  faster  I  went,  the 
faster  the  wolves  followed  me,  and,  looking  back  after  a  little 
while,  I  saw  twenty-five  or  thirty  '  lobos '  (a  large,  fierce  kind 
of  wolf,  found  only  in  Mexico  and  Texas),  trotting  along  after 
me  at  a  rate  I  knew  would  soon  bring  them  into  close  quarters, 
and  in  the  bushes  and  chaparral  that  bordered  the  trail  I  was 
traveling  I  could  see  the  gleaming  eyes  and  pointed  ears  of  at 
least  a  dozen  others  coming  rapidly  toward  me.  One  big  fellow, 


900  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

more  daring  and  hungry  than  the  rest,  made  a  rush  at  me,  and 
I  barely  had  time  to  level  my  gun  and  fire,  for  he  was  touching 
the  muzzle  of  it  when  I  pulled  the  trigger.  He  fell  dead  at  my 
feet,  but,  as  if  this  had  been  the  signal  for  a  general  attack,  in 
an  instant  the  whole  pack  were  around  me,  snarling  and  snap 
ping,  and  showing  their  white  teeth  in  a  way  that  was  any 
thing  but  pleasant. 

"  I  fought  them  off  with  the  breach  of  my  gun,  for  they  did 
not  give  me  a  chance  to  load  it,  retreating  all  the  while  as  rap 
idly  as  I  could.  Once  so  many  of  them  rushed  in  upon  me  at 
the  same  time  that,  in  spite  of  all  my  efforts,  I  failed  to  keep 
them  at  bay,  and  they  dragged  me  to  the  ground.  I  thought 
for  an  instant  that  it  was  all  up  with  me,  but  despair  gave  me 
the  strength  of  half  a  dozen  men,  and  I  used  'old  butch'  (his 
knife)  to  such  a  good  purpose  that  I  killed  three  outright  and 
wounded  several  others,  which  appeared  somewhat  to  daunt  the 
balance,  for  they  drew  off  a  short  distance  and  began  to  howl 
for  re-enforcements. 

"The  re-enforcements  were  on  their  way,  for  I  could  hear 
them  howling  in  every  direction,  and  I  knew  that  I  had  no  time 
to  lose.  So  I  put  off  at  the  top  of  my  speed,  and  in  those  days 
it  took  a  pretty  fast  Spanish  pony  to  beat  me  a  quarter  when  I 
'let  out  the  kinks.'  And  I  let  'em  out  this  time  with  a  will, 
I  tell  you,  and  fairly  beat  the  wolves  for  a  half  a  mile  or  so, 
but  my  breath  then  began  to  fail  me,  and  I  could  tell  by  their 
close,  angry  yelps  that  the  devils  were  again  closing  in  upon  me. 

"  By  this  time  I  was  so  much  exhausted  that  I  knew  I  should 
make  a  poor  fight  of  it,  more  especially  as  I  could  perceive 
from  the  number  of  dark  forms  behind  rne,  and  the  gleaming 
eyes  and  shining  teeth  that  glistened  out  of  every  bush  on  the 
wayside,  that  the  wolves  had  had  considerable  addition  to  their 
number.  It  may  be  thought  strange  that  I  did  n't  take  to  a 
tree,  but  there  were  no  trees  there  to  take  to — nothing  but 
stunted  chaparral  bushes,  not  much  higher  than  a  man's  head. 

"I  thought   my  time   had   come  at   last,  and  I  was  almost 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  901 

ready  to  give  up  in  despair,  when,  all  at  once,  I  remembered 
seeing,  as  I  came  out,  a  large  lone  oak-tree,  with  a  hollow  in  it 
about  large  enough  for  a  man  to  crawl  into,  which  grew  on  the 
banks  of  a  small  canon,  not  more  than  three  or  four  hundred 
yards  from  where  I  then  was.  I  resolved  to  make  one  more 
effort,  and,  if  possible,  to  reach  this  tree  before  the  wolves  came 
up  with  me  again;  and  if  ever  there  was  good,  honest  running 
done,  without  any  throw-off  about  it,  I  did  it  then.  The  fact 
is,  I  believe  a  man  can  't  tell  how  fast  he  can  run  until  he  gets 
a  pack  of  wolves  after  him  in  this  way.  A  fellow  will  natu 
rally  do  his  best  when  he  knows  that  if  he  does  n't,  in  twenty 
minutes  he  will  be  'parceled  out'  among  as  many  ravenous 
wolves,  a  head  to  one,  a  leg  to  another,  an  arm  to  a  third,  and 
so  on.  At  least  that  was  the  effect  of  it,  and  I  split  the  air  so 
fast  with  my  nose  that  it  took  the  skin  off  of  it,  and  for  a  week 
afterward  it  looked  like  a  peeled  onion. 

"  However,  I  beat  the  wolves  once  more  fairly  and  squarely, 
not  much  time  to  spare  either,  for  just  as  I  crawled  into  the  hol 
low  of  the  tree,  which  was  about  as  high  as  my  head  from  the 
ground,  the  ravenous  creatures  were  howling  all  around  me.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  tree  I  found  a  '  skunk '  snugly  stowed  away, 
but  I  soon  routed  him  out,  and  the  wolves  gobbled  him  up  in  an 
instant.  He  left  a  smell  behind  him  that  was  any  thing  but 
agreeable  in  such  close  quarters.  However,  I  was  safe  there  at 
any  rate  from  the  attacks  of  the  wolves,  and  all  the  smells  in 
the  city  of  New  Orleans  could  n't  have  driven  me  from  my  hole 
just  at  that  time. 

"  The  wolves  could  only  get  at  me  one  at  a  time,  and  with 
'  old  butch '  in  my  hand  I  knew  I  could  manage  a  hundred  in 
that  way.  They  bit  and  gnawed  and  scratched,  and  every  now 
and  then  a  fellow  would  jump  up  and  poke  his  nose  into  the 
hollow  of  the  tree,  but  just  as  sure  as  he  did  it,  he  caught  a 
wipe  across  it  with  '  old  butch '  that  generally  satisfied  his  curi 
osity  for  awhile.  All  night  long  they  kept  up  their  serenade, 
and,  as  you  may  well  suppose,  I  did  n't  get  much  sleep.  How- 


902  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ever,  the  noise  did  n't  matter,  for  I  had  got  several  severe  bites 
on  my  arms  and  legs,  and  the  pain  I  suffered  from  them  would 
have  kept  me  awake  anyhow. 

"Just  at  daylight  the  next  morning  the  wolves  began  to 
sneak  off,  and  when  the  sun  rose  not  one  was  to  be  seen, 
except  three  dead  ones  at  the  root  of  the  tree,  that  had  come  in 
contact  with  'old  butch.'  I  waited  awhile  longer  to  be  cer 
tain  they  had  all  left,  when  I  crawled  out  of  my  den,  gave 
myself  a  shake,  and  found  I  was  all  right,  except  a  pound  or 
so  of  flesh  taken  out  of  one  of  my  legs,  and  a  few  scratches  on 
my  arms.  I  hobbled  back  home,  and  for  a  long  time  afterward 
when  I  heard  the  howling  of  wolves  I  always  felt  uneasy.  I 
found  out  the  next  day  why  the  wolves  acted  as  they  did.  I 
had  a  bottle  of  assafoetida  that  was  broken  and  run  over  my 
clothes.  I  had  often  heard  that  assafoetida  would  attract  wolves, 
but  I  had  always  thought  it  an  old  woman's  yarn.  But  it  is  a 
fact,  and  if  you  don't  believe  it,  go  some  dark  night  into  a 
thick  chaparral  where  wolves  are  numerous,  and  pour  about  a 
gill  over  your  clothes,  and  then  wait  a  little,  and  see  what  will 
turn  up ;  and  if  you  do  n't  hear  howling  and  snapping  and  snarl 
ing,  I  '11  agree  to  be  stung  to  death  by  bumble-bees." 

In  the  fall  of  1842  the  Indians  troubled  the  frontiers  of 
Texas  more  than  at  any  previous  time.  A  party  of  forty  men, 
of  which  Big  Foot^  was  a  member,  set  out  to  punish  the  red 
skins.  When  they  camped,  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day, 
Wallace  noticed  a  smoke  a  few  miles  to  the  north-east,  and 
was  directed  by  the  captain  to  make  a  scout  before  daylight, 
and  find  out  what  the  thing  meant.  He  rose  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  stumbled  across  the  rough  country  until  he 
came  to  a  canon  leading  in  the  direction  he  was  going. 

Lying  by  until  daylight,  Wallace  then  started  up  the  canon, 
which  was  very  crooked  and  at  times  not  more  than  four  feet 
wide.  Making  a  sudden  turn  at  one  place,  Wallace,  who  was 
stooping  over,  ran  violently  into  an  Indian,  who  was  descending 
the  canon,  knocking  him  down.  Both  men  scrambled  to  their 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  903 

feet,  and  being  too  close  to  shoot,  dropped  their  guns  and  grap 
pled  with  each  other.  Big  Foot  was  the  heavier,  but  the  Indian, 
over  six  feet  tall  and  of  powerful  build,  was  furthermore  per 
fectly  naked,  and  greased  from  head  to  foot  with  bear's  oil. 
The  struggle  up  and  down  and  across  the  canon  was  an  equal 
one.  As  fast  as  Big  Foot  threw  his  opponent,  the  latter  would 
instantly  slip  out  of  his  grasp,  before  the  white  man  could  draw 
his  knife. 

At  last  Wallace  threw  the  savage  with  great  violence,  his 
head  striking  a  rock.  Momentarily  stunned,  he  gave  the  white 
man  time  to  draw  his  knife  and  bury  it  in  the  Indian's  body. 
The  moment  the  savage  felt  the  cold  steel,  he  threw  Wallace  off, 
seized  him  by  the  throat  with  one  hand,  and  whipped  out  his 
knife.  In  an  instant  the  weapon  descended,  and  was  buried  to 
its  hilt  in  the  hard  ground  at  Wallace's  side.  The  blood  from 
the  wound  in  his  head  running  into  his  eyes  blinded  him  so  that 
he  missed  his  aim. 

It  must  have  been  about  this  time  that  Wallace,  with  a  party 
of  eight  men  who  had  been  out  exploring  the  Nueces  River,  had 
the  misfortune  to  lose  all  their  horses  by  Indians  one  night 
while  in  camp:  The  men  at  once  started  on  foot  to  the  Zumwalt 
settlement,  ten  miles  away,  to  procure  horses,  and  follow  the 
Indians.  After  obtaining  some  animals  they  struck  out  on  the 
trail  of  the  flying  savages.  On  the  way  they  were  joined  by  a 
tall  stranger,  on  an  ugly  but  powerful  horse.  The  man's  eyes  had 
a  wild,  insane  look,  and  he  explained  that  his  business  was  way 
laying  and  shooting  Indians.  He  and  his  family  had  some  ten 
years  before  emigrated  from  Kentucky  to  Texas,  and  settled 
in  a  pretty  spot  near  the  Gaudaloupe  River.  One  day,  when 
a  mile  away  from  his  house,  he  heard  several  guns  discharged. 
Hurrying  back,  he  found  his  wife  and  three  children  lying  dead 
on  the  floor.  He  had  at  once  fallen  upon  the  Indians,  and 
killed  four  of  them  before  he  fell  senseless  from  his  wounds. 
Since  that  time  he  had  devoted  himself  to  revenge. 

The  stranger  at  once  became  the  guide  of  the  expedition^ 


904  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

and,  a  half  an  hour  before  sundown,  brought  the  men  within 
fifty  yards  of  the  Indian  camp.  A  bloody  fight  followed,  in 
which  the  Indian  fighter  killed  four  savages.  The  incident 
seemed  to  make  him  for  the  moment  quite  happy,  and  after  the 
Indians  were  driven  off  he  was  observed  to  laugh.  The  ulti 
mate  fate  of  the  man  is  unknown. 

At  a  later  period  in  his  life,  Wallace  settled  in  a  ranch  on 
the  Medina  River.  His  principal  neighbors  were  the  Lipan 
Indians.  One  day  Big  Foot  gave  a  grand  dinner  of  bear  meat 
and  honey  to  the  chiefs  of  the  tribe,  and  made  a  treaty  with 
them  to  the  effect  that  henceforth  he  was  to  be  considered  the 
same  as  a  Lipan,  and  that  they  would  not  steal  from  him.  For 
many  miles  the  white  men  lost  all  their  live  stock  by  the 
depredations  of  these  Indians,  but,  as  the  years  rolled  by,  Wal 
lace  was  not  troubled. 

In  time,  the  Lipans  determined  to  move  to  the  Guadaloupe 
•  River.  A  morning  or  so  after  their  departure,  Wallace  found 
his  horses  stolen.  He  had  no  idea  that  they  had  been  taken 
by  his  allies,  but,  on  following  the  trail,  he  picked  up  an  arrow 
which  he  knew  belonged  to  the  Lipan  tribe.  Repairing  to  San 
Antonio,  he  raised  a  company  of  thirty  men  for  the  recovery  of 
the  stolen  property.  Just  as  the  company  of  rough  but  brave 
fellows  were  about  to  leave  the  town,  a  stranger,  wearing  a 
stove-pipe  hat,  light  cloth  clothes,  and  patent  leather  gaiters, 
stepped  up  to  Wallace,  and  explained  that  he  was  writing  a 
novel  of  frontier  life,  and  desired  to  accompany  the  expedition 
in  order  to  acquire  some  practical  experience. 

The  big  Ranger  looked  down  at  the  little  dandy,  and,  with 
a  wink  at  his  men,  told  him,  "All  right,  you're  welcome,  Mr. 
Author."  The  stranger  hustled  away,  and  the  next  day  joined 
the  party  armed  with  a  little,  double-barreled  gun  and  an  um 
brella.  He  carried  also  a  tiny  pistol,  of  which  the  men  made 
all  manner  of  fun.  The  first  night  was  passed  at  Wallace's 
ranch.  The  author  went  to  sleep  on  a  big  buffalo  robe  where  a 
dog  had  been  lying. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  905 

In  the  morning  he  had  a  crick  in  his  neck,  from  sleeping 
with  a  block  of  wood  for  a  pillow.  Next  he  hinted  to  Big  Foot 
that  he  felt  as  if  he  had  been  bitten  by  insects.  The  man 
asked  him  where  he  had  gotten  his  buckskin  suit,  intimating 
that,  no  doubt,  it  contained  vermin.  This  made  the  literary 
stranger  perfectly  wretched. 

The  journey  after  the  Indians  was  soon  begun,  the  men 
dividing  their  time  between  fun  with  the  author  and  a  lookout 
for  redskins.  Late  in  the  afternoon  a  storm  came  up.  The 
stranger  proudly  raised  his  umbrella  amid  the  jeers  of  the  men, 
but  the  first  gust  of  wind  turned  it  inside  out  and  whirled  it 
from  his  hand.  He  slept  that  night  in  a  puddle  of  water. 
Evidently  his  notions  of  the  romantic  side  of  frontier  life  were 
undergoing  a  change.  In  the  morning  the  wrecked  umbrella 
was  found  lodged  in  a  neighboring  bush.  Each  of  the  men  fired 
at  it  with  their  big  revolvers.  When  the  firing  ceased,  the 
stranger  sadly  gathered  the  remains  of  the  umbrella,  and 
strapped  them  on  his  saddle. 

In  the  afternoon  an  early  halt  was  made.  The  stranger, 
hearing  the  men  say  they  would  look  around  for  game,  took 
his  little  bird  gun  and  strolled  away  himself.  In  a  little  while 
Big  Foot  heard  both  barrels  of  the  gun  go  off,  and  he  at  once 
seized  his  rifle  and  ran  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  He  found 
the  stranger.  He  was  running  round  and  round  a  tree,  dodging 
an  immense  buck,  which  was  after  him.  He  screamed  to  Wallace 
to  shoot  the  animal,  but  the  Texan,  almost  splitting  with  laugh 
ter,  pretended  to  think  that  the  author  was  really  chasing  the 
buck  instead  of  the  buck  chasing  him,  and  trying  to  lay  hold  of 
the  animal  to  cut  his  throat.  The  frightened  man,  breathless 
with  incessant  exertions  to  avoid  the  vicious  lunges  which  the 
animal  made  with  its  horns,  one  of  which  carried  away  the  tail 
of  his  buckskin  shirt,  screamed  louder  and  louder,  earnestly  pro 
testing  that  this  was  not  the  case.  Big  Foot  seemed  not  to 
believe,  said  it  was  a  joke,  praised  his  pluck,  told  him  he  would 
soon  tire  out  the  buck,  and  finally,  when  the  man  was  about 


906  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

worn  out  fired,  and  killed  the  buck.  The  literary  stranger  was 
furiously  mad.  He  abused  Wallace  like  a  pickpocket,  and  swore 
at  him  like  a  trooper  for  his  delay  in  killing  the  beast.  How 
ever,  he  was  so  much  relieved  to  find  that  he  was  still  alive  and 
safe,  that  his  wrath  gave  way. 

The  next  day,  Wallace  says,  the  men  suffered  terribly  from 
want  of  water.  Just  when  the  torment  became  intolerable, 
the  stranger  was  observed  to  be  making  notes  in  a  blank 
book.  These  notes  related  to  the  appearance  of  men  suffer 
ing  from  intense  thirst.  When  the  men  found  out  what  he 
was  doing,  they  wanted  to  kill  him,  and  decided  that  he  was 
a  maniac. 

The  next  adventure  of  the  stranger  was  more  serious. 
While  hunting  for  geological  specimens,  he  was  attacked  by 
Mexican  hedgehogs,  which  often  tear  men  to  pieces  with  their 
tusks.  Scrambling  up  into  some  chaparral  bushes,  he  began 
to  yell,  until  he  made  himself  heard  at  the  camp.  Big  Foot, 
as  usual,  came  to  the  rescue,  but  also  resolved  to  have  a  little 
fun.  Climbing  up  into  a  tree,  he  advised  the  stranger  to  drive 
the  hogs  away,  as  they  were  dangerous.  We  quote  Big  Foot's 
own  published  account  of  the  incident : 

"  Said  I,  '  Mr.  Author/  fixing  myself  comfortably  on  a  limb, 
'  this  reminds  me  of  a  scrape  I  once  got  into,  and  as  we  are 
comfortably  fixed  out  here  all  by  ourselves,  I  could  not  have 
a  better  chance  of  telling  it  to  you.' 

" '  Comfortable  !'  he  exclaimed ;  '  you  have  strange  ideas  of 
it  if  you  think  a  man  can  be  comfortable  sitting  on  the  top  of 
your  abominable  Texas  chaparral,  with  his  knees  drawn  up  to 
his  chin,  a  thorn  in  each  leg  as  long  as  my  finger,  and  a  dozen 
wild  hogs  making  lunges  at  them  whenever  he  stretches  them 
down  for  a  moment's  ease.  For  heaven's  sake,  shoot  them,' 
he  implored,  '  arid  let  me  out  of  this  nest  of  thorns.' 

"  '  I  can 't,'  I  replied ;  "  I  have  only  the  bullet  that  is  in  my 
gun,  and  if  I  shoot  one  of  them  it  will  make  the  other  ten 
times  worse/ 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  907 

"  '  You  do  n't  tell  me  so,  captain.  Then  what  in  the  world 
shall  we  do  ?' 

"'Why,'  said  I,  'the  only  thing  we  can  do  now  is  to  be 
patient,  and  wait  until  the  moon  rises  to-night,  and  I  think 
then  the  "  havilinas  "  will  leave  us.' 

" '  0,  do  n't  talk  to  me  about  the  moon's  rising.  It  won't  be 
up  till  twelve  o'clock,  at  least,  and  I  can 't  stand  this  fifteen 
minutes  longer,  no  how.  Crackey !  that  fellow  gave  me  a 
grazer  !  He  has  taken  off  the  heel  of  my  boot  on  his  tusks  !' 

"  '  You  see,  Mr.  Author,'  I  continued,  pretending  not  to  hear 
what  he  said,  '  it  was  about  six  years  ago,  that  Bill  Hankins 
and  I  were  out  bear  hunting  on  the  head  waters  of  the  Leon, 
when ' 

"'Plague  take  that  fellow,  he  brought  blood  that  time, 
certain!'  said  our  author.  'Their  teeth  are  as  sharp  as  razors.' 

'"As  I  was  saying,'  I  went  on,  ' it  was  about  six  years  ago 
that  Bill  Hankins  and  I  were  out  bear  hunting  on  the  head 
waters  of  the  Leon,  when  we  fell  in  with  a  large  drove  of 
these  "  havilinas."  : 

" '  They  are  gnawing  my  bush  down,'  said  our  author  in 
a  pitiable  tone;  'they  will  have  it  down  in  less  than  ten 
minutes.' 

" '  As  I  was  saying,'  I  continued,  '  it  was  about  six  years 
ago  that  Bill  Hankins  and  I  were  out  hunting  on  the  head 
waters  of  the  Leon,  when  we  fell  in  with  a  large  drove  of 
"  havilinas  "  and  before  we  were  aware  of  our  danger ' 

" '  Shuh  !  you  devils,'  said  our  author,  flinging  his  last  mis 
sile,  his  memorandum  book,  at  the  hogs,  as  they  made  a  general 
rush  on  his  bush. 

" '  Mr.  Author,'  I  said,  in  an  offended  tone,  '  you  are  not 
paying  the  slightest  attention  to  what  I  am  telling  you.  You 
might  learn  something,  even  from  the  Indians,  in  this  respect, 
for,  according  to  Mr.  Cooper,  they  never  interrupt  a  man  when 
he  is  talking. 

" '  As  I  was  saying,'  I  continued,  '  it  was  about  six  years 


908  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ago  that  Bill  Hankins  and  I  were  out  bear  hunting  on  the 
head-waters  of  the  Leon" 

" '  Oh !  bother  Mr.  Cooper  and  Bill  Hankins  and  the  head 
waters  of  the  Leon/  said  our  author,  losing  his  temper  at  my 
persistence  in  relating  the  anecdote.  '  Cooper's  a  fool.  Oh  my! 
there 's  a  thorn  clean  through  my,  back  into  the  hollow  !' 

"  '  But  my  friend/  said  I,  changing  my  tactics,  '  you  ought 
to  bear  your  troubles  with  patience,  for  you  should  remember 
what  a  thrilling  chapter  you  will  be  able  to  make  out  of  this 
adventure.' 

" (  Oh  yes/  said  he,  '  but  who  will  there  be  to  write  it  when 
I  am  chawed  up  by  these  infuriated  pigs  like  a  handful  of 
acorns?  Oh,  dear!  they'll  have  me  directly.  I  can  feel  the 
bush  give  way  now.  Captain/  said  he,  £  you  will  find  the  man 
uscript  of  the  novel  in  my  saddle-bags.  Take  it,  and  publish 
it  for  the  benefit  of  the  world,  and  tell  them  of  the  melancholy 
fate  of  the  poor  author.  But  tell  them,  for  mercy's  sake,  "that  I 
was  devoured  by  a  lion,  a  panther,  or  a  catamount,  or  some 
decent  sort  of  a  beast,  and  not  by  a  gang  of  squealing  pigs.  It 
won't  sound  romantic,  you  know.' 

" '  I  '11  do  it,  Mr.  Author/  said  I,  '  but  I  hope  you  will  live 
long  enough  yet  to  tell  them  all  about  it  yourself.  You  have  a 
first-rate  chance  to  study  the  habits  and  appearance  of  these 
"  havilinas,"  and  can  write  a  chapter  on  them  that  will  be  very 
interesting  and  true  to  nature.  How  will  you  describe  them  ?' 
I  asked. 

" '  They  look  to  me/  he  answered,  6  like  a  couple  of  butcher 
knives,  about  as  long  as  my  arm,  stuck  into  a  handle  covered 
with  hair  and  bristles  !' 

"  'And  can  you  tell  me/  I  said,  '  what  particular  tribe  of  ani 
mals  they  belong  to?' 

" '  Captain,  I  do  n't  feel  inclined  to  discuss  the  subject  now, 
particularly  as  the  subject  is  so  eager  to  discuss  me;  and  besides, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  think  you  have  selected  a  most  unsuit 
able  time  for  propounding  your  questions  in  natural  history. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          909 

Oh,  my !  there  goes  the  leg  of  my  pants  and  a  strip  of  the  hide 
with  it !' 

" '  Mr.  Author,'  I  said,  pretending  not  to  hear  his  remarks, 
6 1  recollect  once  reading  a  chapter  in  one  of  Mr.  Cooper's  nov 
els,  in  which  he  gives  a  very  interesting  account  of  the  immense 
droves  of  wild  pigeons  that  were  migrating  from  one  part  of  the 
country  to  another,  and  — ' 

" '  Oh,  bother  Cooper,  I  say  !'  said  our  author,  becoming  per 
fectly  frantic  as  a  thorn  touched  him  up  in  the  rear  and  a  pig 
made  a  dash  at  his  legs  in  front.  '  Cooper  is  an  unmitigated 
humbug,  and  I  begin  to  think  you  are  not  much  better.  Oh,  I 
can  stand  this  no  longer,'  said  he,  '  and  I  '11  make  a  finish  of  it 
at  once ;'  and  I  verily  believe  he  would  have  jumped  down  right 
among  the  hogs  in  another  moment,  but  just  then  I  saw  sev 
eral  of  my  men  coming  toward  us  from  camp,  and  said  to  him  : 

" '  Hold  on  a  minute,  Mr.  Author ;  there  come  some  men  to 
help  us  and  will  soon  rout  the  beasts  now.' 

"  Seeing  that  we  were  both  treed  by  some  sort  of  '  varmints,' 
the  men  hurried  up,  shot  several  of  the  hogs,  and  the  balance, 
finding  we  mustered  too  strong  for  them,  quickly  retreated  into 
the  chaparral." 

One  day,  riding  along,  Big  Foot,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye, 
told  the  stranger  several  snake  stories,  and  advised  him,  if  he 
ever  felt  a  rattlesnake,  even  in  the  bed  with  him,  to  lie  perfectly 
still,  as  the  only  way  to  avoid  being  bitten.  Duvall  relates  the 
ensuing  incident  admirably. 

"I  saw  that  my  ' snake  story'  had  produced  the  desired 
effect  upon  him,  and  for  the  time  I  dropped  the  subject.  The 
next  night  we  encamped  in  a  very  snaky-looking  locality,  and  I 
cut  off  a  piece  of  grapevine  about  as  thick  as  an  ordinary  rattle 
snake,  which  I  slyly  slipped  under  the  edge  of  our  blanket  just 
before  I  '  turned  in.'  About  a  half  an  hour  after  we  had  lain 
down  I  drew  out  the  grapevine  and  drew  it  slowly  along  the 
author's  back,  at  the  same  time  gently  shaking  my  rattles,  which 
I  held  in  my  other  hand.  He  was  just  on  the  eve  of  dropping 

51 


910  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

off  to  sleep,  but  the  crawling  motion  and  the  rattling  aroused 
him  in  an  instant. 

"  '  Oh !  murder !  captain !  there  's  a  rattlesnake  crawling  along 
my  back  !  What  in  the  world  am  I  to  do  ?' 

" '  I  know  it,'  I  answered,  '  I  hear  him  rattling  now  (and  I 
gently  shook  the  rattles  I  held  in  my  hand).  Lie  still,  and 
do  n't  move  a  muscle  until  he  coils  up.' 

" '  Oh,  yes,'  said  the  poor  fellow,  and  his  teeth  fairly  chat 
tered  from  fright,  '  it 's  easy  enough  for  you  to  say  "  lie  still," 
when  I  am  between  you  and  the  snake ;  but  it  is  not  so  easy 
for  me,  for  I  can  feel  him  squirming  along  my  back  now.' 

"  *  I  know  that,'  said  I,  '  but  you  must  lie  still,  for  the  first 
motion  you  make,  he  will  have  his  fangs  into  you,  sure.' 

" '  Oh !'  said  the  poor  fellow,  as  I  gave  the  vine  another 
serpentine  twist  along  his  back,  <  this  is  more  than  human  na 
ture  can  bear — ugh !  ugh !  Captain,  can  't  you  do  any  thing 
for  me  ?' 

" '  There  's  no  danger  at  all,'  I  said,  '  if  you  will  only  keep 
still;  he  will  soon  settle  himself,  and  then  you  can  jump  up 
without  the  least  risk  of  being  bitten.  When  he  quits  rattling 
altogether,'  said  I,  shaking  the  rattles  in  my  hand,  'you  will 
know  that  he -is  asleep.' 

" '  Captain,'  he  replied  in  a  faint  and  husky  voice,  as  I  gave 
the  vine  another  twist  and  shook  the  rattles,  6  this  is  past  endur 
ance.  I  must  get  out  of  this  at  all  hazards.' 

" '  Unless  you  want  to  die,'  said  I,  '  do  n't  do  it,  but  lie  as 
still  as  a  mouse  when  puss  is  about.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Author,' 
said  I,  '  can  you  tell  me  whether  the  rattlesnake  is  confined  to 
the  American  continent,  or  if  he  is  to  be  found  also  in  other 
countries  ?  I  have  heard  a  great  many  opposite  opinions  on  the 
subject,  and  some  pretend  to  think,'  I  continued,  giving  the  vine 
another  twist,  '  that  they  are  a  species  of  the  cobra  de  capello, 
the  most  poisonous  serpent  in  the  world.' 

" 6  Ugh  !'  said  the  poor  fellow,  '  this  is  past  all  endurance. 
Captain,  remember  me  to  all  inquiring  friends,  and  do  n't  forget 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  911 

that  the  manuscript  is  in  my  saddle-bags.  Give  it  to  the  world 
with  all  its  imperfections  !' 

" '  Hold  on  just  one  minute  longer/  giving  the  rattles  a 
vicious  shake,  'and  you  will  be  all  right.' 

"  '  Not  another  second/  he  cried,  '  it's  no  use  talking.  I  may 
as  well  die  one  way  as  another,'  and  he  made  a  desperate  bound 
from  under  the  blanket,  and  pitched  head  foremost  on  the  ground, 
ten  to  twelve  paces  off. 

"  I  seized  a  bottle  of  '  Ghili  peppersauce,'  and  ran  to  where 
he  was  lying.  '  Here,  Mr.  Author,'  I  said,  '  drink  this  quick !' 
He  took  it,  and  in  the  hurry  and  excitement  of  the  moment 
hastily  swallowed  about  a  pint  of  the  contents. 

"' Gracious!'  said  I,  'you  have  made  a  wonderful  escape.' 

" '  I  do  n't  know  so  well  about  that,'  said  he,  sputtering  and 
gasping  for  breath.  'I'm  afraid  I'm  bit.' 

" '  Do  you  feel,'  I  asked,  '  as  if  you  were  up  to  your  waist 
in  melted  lead?' 

" '  Not  exactly,'  he  replied,  drawing  his  breath  through 
his  teeth ;  '  but  I  feel  as  if  I  had  swallowed  a  quart  or  so  of  it.' 

"'Then,'  said  I,  'you  are  all  safe,  and  you  have  made 
the  most  wonderful  escape  on  record.  No  one  before  has 
ever  missed  being  bit  who  sprang  off,  as  you  did,  before  the 
snake  had  coiled  himself  up.  A  most  extraordinary  escape 
truly."' 

Notwithstanding  these  pranks,  when  the  real  fight  with  the 
Indians  came  on  the  author  quite  won  the  respect  of  the  men 
by  his  bravery,  even  if  he  did  little  execution. 

Big  Foot  Wallace  was  a  member  of'  the  Mier  expedition, 
being  taken  prisoner  at  the  same  time  that  Nelson  Lee  escaped 
from  Mier.  His  sufferings  in  prison  were  great.  He  partici 
pated  in  a  bold  escape,  but  after  several  days  of  wandering  in 
the  wilderness,  during  which  time  he  and  his  companions  nearly 
died  from  thirst  and  starvation,  they  were  recaptured  by  the 
Mexicans.  He  took  part  in  drawing  lots  to  determine  which  of 
their  number  should  be  executed,  but  luckily  drew  a  white  bean, 


912  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

and  his  life  was  preserved.     After  an  imprisonment  of  two  years 
he  was  released. 

He  took  part  in  the  Mexican  war,  and  had  many  fights  with 
Indians  while  driving  the  mail  coach,  which  he  subsequently 
did  for  many  years,  between  San  Antonio  and  El  Paso.  He 
has  made  his  home  in  his  old  age  on  a  ranch,  about  thirty  miles 
from  San  Antonio. 


BOWIE'S   FIGHT. 

On  the  second  day  of  November,  1831,  a  company  of  eleven 
men,  of  whom  Rezin  P.  Bowie  and  his  brother  James  were  the 
leaders,  set  out  from  San  Antonio  to  hunt  for  the  abandoned 
silver  mines  of  the  San  Saba  mission,  which  tradition  said  were 
of  wonderful  richness.  Their  location  had  been  forgotten  and 
lost  sight  of  by  men.  For  three  weeks  the  party  traveled 
steadily,  making  in  the  day-time  careful  explorations  of  the 
country,  and  grouped  about  their  camp  fire  in  the  evenings,  talk 
ing  until  far  into  the  night,  of  the  treasure  of  which  they  were 
in  quest. 

One  morning  two  Comanche  Indians  having  with  them  an 
unhappy  Mexican,  whom  they  had  taken  captive,  came  up  with 
the  party.  They  appeared  friendly,  presents  were  exchanged, 
and  the  white  men  went  on  their  way  without  suspicion.  On 
the  following  morning  the  Mexican  captive  suddenly  appeared  in 
the  camp,  exhausted  by  a  long  ride,  and  stated  that  he  had  been 
sent  by  his  chief,  Isaonie,  to  warn  the  white  men,  that  they  were 
followed  by  a  party  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-four  Indians 
of  the  Waco  and  Caddo  tribes,  who  were  bent  upon  massacring 
them.  The  Mexican  further  stated  that  his  chief  had  on  a  pre 
vious  evening  endeavored  to  dissuade  the  war  party  from  their 
bloody  purpose,  but  without  success.  He  himself  had  only 
sixteen  braves,  badly  armed  and  without  ammunition,  but  said 
that  if  the  white  men  thought  best  to  return  and  join  him  he 
would  do  his  best  to  protect  them.  The  treasure  hunters,  how- 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          913 

•ever,  determined  to  push  on  toward  the  old  fort  on  the  San 
Saba  River,  thirty  miles  away.  The  Mexican  having  dis 
charged  his  duty  left  them.  Though  making  all  possible  haste 
along  the  rocky  roads,  the  white  men  were  unable  to  reach  the 
fort  that  night.  They  were  compelled  to  encamp  in  a  small 
clump  of  live  oak  trees,  surrounded  by  an  open  rocky  country. 

Special  safeguards  were  taken  for  the  night,  but  the  hours 
passed  without  alarm.  In  the  morning  preparations  were  made 
for  an  early  start  toward  the  old  fort,  which  was  only  six  miles 
away.  Camp  had  been  broken,  and  the  men  were  in  the  act  of 
leaving  the  cover,  when  they  were  dismayed  to  discover  the 
Indians  not  two  hundred  yards  away.  In  front  of  them  was 
a  savage  on  foot,  hunting  the  trail.  The  whites  instantly 
dismounted,  made  fast  their  horses,  and  prepared  for  such 
defense  as  they  could  make.  There  were,  on  the  one  hand, 
eleven  white  men;  on  the  other,  over  one  hundred  and  sixty 
Indians. 

The  odds  were  so  fearful  that  the  elder  Bowie  and  a  man 
named  Buchanan  determined  to  go  out  and  attempt  to  parley. 
When  within  forty  yards  of  the  spot  where  the  Indians  had 
halted,  Bowie  called  to  them,  to  which  the  response  was  sev 
eral  shots,  one  of  which  broke  Buchanan's  leg.  Bowie  dis 
charged  his  gun  and  pistol,  seized  Buchanan,  threw  him  on  his 
shoulder,  and  started  to  the  live  oaks  under  a  heavy  fire. 
.Buchanan  was  wounded  in  two  additional  places,  but  Bowie  was 
unhurt.  Seeing  that  their  shots  had  failed  to  take  effect  on 
Bowie,  eight  Indians,  with  drawn  tomahawks,  started  after  him. 
Burdened  as  he  was  with  the  weight  of  Buchanan,  Bowie  was 
quickly  overtaken,  but,  just  as  the  Indians  were  about  to  lay 
hold  on  him,  the  men  from  the  cover  fired,  killing  four  savages 
and  driving  off  the  others. 

At  this  moment,  when  the  white  men's  rifles  were  nearly 
all  empty,  a  large  part  of  the  Indians,  who  had  circled  around 
to  another  side  of  the  clump  of  live  oaks,  opened  a  heavy  fire. 
Their  chief  alone  was  on  horseback,  advancing  at  their  head 


914  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

toward  the  trees.  One  shot  broke  his  leg  and  killed  his  horse. 
Hopping  on  one  leg,  and  protecting  himself  with  his  shield  of 
buffalo  hide,  he  attempted  to  get  out  of  range,  but  was  killed 
in  the  effort.  A  handful  of  Indians  sprang  forward  to  seize  his 
body,  an  attempt  which  was  successful,  but  which  cost  the  lives 
of  several  braves. 

The  whole  company  of  Indians  then  retired,  only  to  return 
with  another  chief  at  their  head,  who  met  the  same  fate  as  his 
predecessor.  By  this  time  some  twenty  Indians  had  gotten  to 
the  rear  of  the  white  men,  and,  concealing  themselves  behind 
the  bank  of  a  creek,  poured  in  a  dangerous  fire.  Two  men 
were  shot  through  the  body  at  its  very  beginning,  and  a  third 
had  his  gun  cut  in  two  by  a  rifle  ball. 

Practically  surrounded  by  Indians,  so  that  the  trees  no  longer 
afforded  cover,  the  whites  determined  to  shift  their  position  to 
a  dense  thicket,  which  was  near  by.  To  accomplish  this 
move,  it  was  necessary  to  dislodge  the  Indians  from  the  bank 
of  the  creek.  They  succeeded  in  shooting  so  many  of  the  latter 
through  the  head,  that  they  were  enabled  to  run  to  the  thicket 
without  loss.  Once  fairly  located  here,  the  whites  had  a  mate 
rial  advantage.  Every  time  they  fired,  the  men  would  quickly 
change  their  positions,  moving  several  feet  away.  While  they 
had  a  fair  view  of  the  Indians  in  the  prairie,  the  latter  had 
no  target  except  the  smoke  of  the  guns  above  the  thicket. 
In  the  course  of  a  two  hours'  fight,  only  one  white  man  was 
injured. 

Suffering  heavily  from  the  unerring  aim  of  the  treasure- 
hunters,  the  Indians  fired  the  prairie  grass,  with  the  view  of 
smoking  out  the  white  men.  The  latter  barricaded  themselves 
as  well  as  they  could  with  rock,  and,  owing  to  the  direction  of 
the  wind,  were,  for  a  considerable  time,  in  but  little  danger.  At 
last  the  wind  changed,  and  the  fire  started  directly  toward  the 
position  of  the  white  men.  On  it  came  in  a  wall  of  flame  fully 
ten  feet  high.  The  Indians  kept  up  an  incessant  fire  upon  the 
thicket,  as  well  as  a  hideous  din  of  shouts  and  yells. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  915 

Under  cover  of  the  smoke  the  whites  held  an  anxious  con 
sultation.  In  the  case  the  Indians  charged  under  cover  of  the 
smoke  it  was  evident  that  the  white  men  could  only  deliver  one 
volley  from  their  guns,  as  the  air  was  so  thick  with  sparks  of 
fire  that  no  man  could  open  his  powder  horn  without  being 
almost  certainly  blown  up.  Full  of  desperate  courage  the  men 
resolved  that  if  the  savages  charged  they  would  deliver  their 
fire,  place  their  backs  together,  draw  their  knives  and  fight  to 
the  death.  Meanwhile  the  flames  approached  nearer, and  nearer. 
The  men  gathered  in  a  little  group  about  their  baggage,  and 
when  the  fire  was  almost  on  them,  fought  the  flames  by  smoth 
ering  them  by  their  buffalo  robes  and  blankets. 

By  this  means  they  avoided  being  burnt  to  death,  but  the 
thicket  was  so  much  scorched  and  charred  that  it  no  longer 
afforded  protection.  To  remedy  this  the  men  built  a  low  breast 
work  of  rock  about  them.  At  sundown,  the  Indians,  having 
failed  to  dislodge  them,  withdrew  to  a  little  distance.  The 
whites  labored  incessantly  at  their  fortification,  and  by  ten 
o'clock  in  the  evening  had  built  it  breast  high.  In  this  little 
inclosure  the  men  remained  for  eight  days,  parties  of  Indians 
hovering  within  sight  nearly  all  the  time,  but  making  no  formid 
able  attack.  At  last,  under  cover  of  night,  taking  the  wounded 
with  them,  they  set  out  across  the  country  toward  San  Antonio. 
Intent  no  longer  on  discovering  mythical  silver  mines,  but  only 
anxious  to  reach  their  homes,  this  wish  was  finally  gratified. 


916  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


OHAPTEE  XXX. 

HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE,  CONTINUED. 
DAVID  CROCKETT. 

HE  man  whose  name  stands  at  the  head  of  this 
chapter  deserves  a  place  in  any  sketch,  how 
ever  brief,  of  the  heroes  of  the  Lone  Star  State. 
This  is  not  on  account  of  his  life,  but  of  his 
death.  Although  nearly  his  entire  career  was 
passed  elsewhere,  he  did  for  Texas  all  that  a 
man  could  do — he  gave  his  life  for  her.  He 
was  the  most  original  character  produced  upon 
the  American  frontiers,  as  well  as  by  all  odds 
the  most  famous  one. 
David  Crockett  was  born  in  a  wretched  cabin  in  East  Ten 
nessee,  in  the  year  1786.  His  father  was  one  of  the  worst 
specimens  of  frontier  life.  He  kept  a  tavern,  which  consisted 
of  nothing  more  than  a  tumbling  cabin,  with  one  room  and  an 
earthen  floor.  Its  only  accommodations  consisted  of  a  great  jug 
of  vile  whisky.  The  old  man,  furthermore,  was  mean.  When 
the  boy  was  only  twelve  years  old,  the  father  hired  him  to  a 
Dutchman  to  go  on  foot  with  him  for  four  hundred  miles  and 
drive  a  herd  of  cattle.  The  trip  was  hard  even  for  a  man. 
Many  a  night  the  wretched  boy,  weary,  supperless,  spattered 
with  mud,  and  drenched  with  rain,  would  lie  on  the  ground 
without  shelter  or  covering.  The  journey  terminated  in  Vir 
ginia,  where  the  Dutchman  lived. 

As  for  the  boy,  it  remained  to  make  his  way  back  home 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          917 

through  the  wilderness,  four  hundred  miles  in  extent.  He  ob 
tained  permission  to  follow  an  emigrant's  wagon,  but  quickly 
tiring  of  their  slow  progress,  struck  out  alone  into  the  wilder 
ness,  and  soon  left  the  emigrants  far  behind.  We  neither  know 
how  he  obtained  food,  how  he  crossed  the  rivers,  nor  how  he 
defended  himself  from  wild  beasts.  We  only  know  that  it  was 
winter  when  he  started  and  spring  when  he  reached  his  jour 
ney's  end. 

The  home  to  which  he  returned  was  miserable  enough.  The 
father  was  an  intemperate  old  dog,  and  frequently  would  take  a 
stout  hickory  stick  and  chase  David  for  a  mile  or  two,  threat 
ening  each  moment  to  kill  him.  The  boy  had  a  marvelous  knack 
for  avoiding  his  pursuer,  and  simply  shouted  and  laughed  at  his 
father's  drunken  failures.  Crockett  naturally  drifted  away  from 
such  a  home  and  engaged  in  many  wild  trips  over  the  country 
to  the  eastern  cities,  once  even  arranging  to  go  to  London.  This 
he  failed  to  carry  out. 

He  married  an  Irish  girl  in  his  neighborhood  when  quite 
young,  and,  after  the  birth  of  two  children,  he  packed  his  little 
belongings  on  one  shaky  old  horse,  placed  his  wife  and  children 
on  its  mate,  and  struck  across  the  country  to  penetrate  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  miles  further  into  the  western  wilderness.  This 
was  not  his  only  move.  Apparently  from  innate  vagrancy,  he 
would  no  sooner  gather  a  crop  than  he  would  abandon  his  crum 
bling  shanty,  and  remove  to  some  other  location. 

When  the  Creek  war  broke  out  in  1811,  such  a  restless 
woodsman  as  Crockett  was  eager  to  engage  in  the  conflict.  He 
had  many  thrilling  adventures  during  the  war  which  we  may 
not  here  recount.  The  sufferings  of  the  army  for  want  of  food, 
which  were  shared  by  Crockett,  have  been  briefly  related  else 
where.  During  the  war  his  wife  died,  but,  with  ready  adapta 
tion  to  circumstances,  he  quickly  married  a  widow  whom  he 
met.  A  few  months  after  his  marriage,  intent  on  another 
change  of  location,  he  and  three  neighbors  set  out  on  an  explor 
ing  tour  in  central  Alabama. 


918  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

One  morning  when  the  explorers  awoke,  they  discovered 
that  their  horses  were  gone.  Crockett  at  once  set  out  on 
foot,  through  forest,  bog,  and  ravine,  across  creeks  and  over 
hills,  to  follow  them.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  believe,  yet 
true,  that  before  nightfall  he  had  traversed  fifty  miles.  He 
stopped  that  night  at  a  settler's  cabin,  but  awoke  in  the  morn 
ing  to  find  himself  so  lame  from  his  great  walk  that  he  could 
scarcely  move.  Though  suffering  greatly,  he  left  the  cabin 
and  hobbled  along  a  few  miles,  hoping  that  exercise  would 
improve  him. 

While  proceeding  in  this  way,  consumed  with  fever  and 
tottering  with  weakness,  he  fell,  overcome  by  deathly  sickness. 
A  happy  fortune  prevented  him  from  being  left  here  to  die  or 
be  devoured  by  wild  beasts.  Some  Indians,  coming  through 
the  forest,  saw  the  prostrate  form  of  the  poor,  sick,  white  man, 
and  quickly  attempted  to  minister  to  his  wants,  One  of  them 
had  a  watermelon,  from  which  he  cut  a  slice  for  the  refresh 
ment  of  the  sufferer.  Then,  taking  him  in  their  arms,  they 
carried  him  to  the  cabin  of  a  white  man,  two  miles  distant. 
With  true  frontier  kindness,  the  people  of  the  place  received 
him,  put  him  to  bed,  and  prepared  such  herbs  and  other  primi 
tive  medicines  as  their  resources  afforded. 

The  next  day,  as  the  delirium  was  beginning  to  settle  down 
in  dense  clouds  upon  the  mind  of  the  patient,  two  white  men, 
having  been  informed  by  the  Indians  that  one  of  their  country 
men  was  lying  sick  at  the  place,  came  to  the  cabin.  They 
proved  to  be  acquaintances  of  Crockett.  The  latter  was  able  to 
recognize  them,  and  in  his  delirium  begged  and  besought  them 
to  take  him  to  his  three  companions  whom  he  had  left  at  the 
camp.  He  was  placed  upon  a  sort  of  litter,  and  they  carried 
him  all  the  way,  fifty  miles,  to  the  spot  where  his  companions 
were  waiting. 

At  the  end  of  the  journey  his  fever  had  risen  to  a  fearful 
height.  It  was  evident  that  a  long  spell  of  sickness  was  before 
him.  All  that  could  be  done  was  to  find  the  cabin  of  some 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  919 

kind  pioneer  woman,  and  there  leave  Crockett,  unaided  by  med 
ical  skill,  to  fight,  single-handed,  the  battle  of  life  and  death. 
He  received  the  kindest  attention.  His  pallet  occupied  the 
corner  on  the  earthen  floor  of  the  cabin.  After  weeks  of  suf 
fering  he  began  to  recover.  Although  emaciated  and  tottering 
with  weakness,  he  employed  a  wagoner  to  carry  him  home. 
He  arrived  there  to  find  that  his  family  had  given  him  up 
for  dead. 

In  spite  of  this  misadventure,  Crockett,  instead  of  settling 
down,  removed  with  his  family  to  a  spot  called  Shoal  Creek,  in 
what  is  now  "Giles  county,  Tennessee.  In  a  new  country,  cattle 
stealing  is  regarded  as  the  worst  of  crimes,  and  is  punished 
with  instant  death.  This  grows  out  of  the  fact  that  it  is  the 
crime  to  which  society  in  such  a  region  is  most  liable,  and 
against  which  it  has  the  least  protection.  Crockett,  whose  great 
force  of  character  always  asserted  itself  in  every  situation, 
became  a  self-appointed  justice  of  the  peace.  Subsequently,  he 
was  legally  appointed  to  the  position. 

Before  the  appointment,  whenever  Crockett  made  up  his 
mind  that  a  fellow  ought  to  be  punished,  he  had  simply  ordered 
the  young  men  who  were  his  self-appointed  constables  to  catch 
the  culprit.  When  he  was  brought  before  him  there  was  a  short, 
sharp  trial,  lasting  not  more  than  three  minutes,  and  then  the 
judge  passed  sentence,  saying :  "  Take  the  thief,  strip  off  his 
shirt,  tie  him  to  a  tree,  and  give  him  a  good  flogging.  Then 
burn  down  his  cabin  and  drive  him  out  of  the  country."  From 
this  judgment  no  appeal  would  lie.  When  Crockett  was  legally 
appointed  justice,  he  was  greatly  troubled  in  mind  to  learn  that 
they  required  written  warrants.  In  spite  of  this  difficulty,  he 
got  along  pretty  well,  and  as  he  says,  ".My  judgments  stuck 
like  wax." 

David  Crockett  would  probably  never  have  been  known  to 
fame  had  he  not  entered  politics.  He  was  a  famous  hunter, 
and  popular;  on  this  account,  some  of  the  rough  settlers  sug 
gested  that  he  become  a  candidate  for  the  legislature.  He  was 


920  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ambitious,  and  took  fire  at  the  suggestion.  In,  June,  1821,  he 
began  his  campaign.  He  says  :  "  It  was  a  brand-fire  new  busi 
ness  to  me.  It  now  became  necessary  that  I  should  tell  the 
people  something  about  the  government  and  an  eternal  sight  of 
other  things,  that  I  know  'd  nothing  more  about  than  I  did 
about  Latin  and  law,  and  such  things  as  that.  I  know  'd  so  little 
about  it,  that  if  any  one  had  told  me  that  General  Jackson  was 
the  government  I  should  have  believed  it,  for  I  had  never  read 
even  a  newspaper  in  my  life." 

About  this  time  there  was  a  great  squirrel  hunt  on  Duck 
River,  which  Crockett  resolved  to  attend.  The  people  were  to 
divide  into  two  parties,  and  hunt  for  two  days.  Then  they 
were  to  assemble,  count  the  scalps,  and  the  party  which  had 
killed  the  less  number  of  squirrels  was  to  pay  for  a  big  dinner 
and  country  frolic.  Owing  to  Crockett's  marvelous  skill,  his 
party  killed  the  most  squirrels. 

As  the  dinner  proceeded  and  whisky  began  to  flow  like 
water,  Crockett  was  called  out  to  make  a  speech  as  a  candidate, 
to  be  followed  by  his  opponent.  Crockett  was,  he  says,  "As 
ignorant  of  the  business  as  an  outlandish  negro.  I  got  up  and 
told  the  people  I  reckoned  they  knowed  what  I  had  come  for, 
but  if  not  I  could  tell  them.  I  had  come  for  their  votes,  and  if 
they  did  n't  watch  mighty  close  I  would  get  them  too.  But  the 
worst  of  all  was  that  I  could  not  tell  them  any  thing  about  the 
government.  I  choked  up  as  bad  as  if  my  mouth  had  been 
jamm 'd  and  cramm'd  chock  full  of  dry  mush."  However,  he 
managed  to  tell  a  story  or  two,  and  then  seeing  the  people  in  a 
good  humor  took  care  to  remark  that  he  was  "as  dry  as  a  pow 
der  horn,  and  that  it  was  time  for  us  all  to  wet  our  whistles  a 
little."  He  then  went  off  to  a  liquor  stand,  taking  nearly  the 
whole  crowd  with  him,  and  leaving  his  competitor  to  speak  to 
about  six  men. 

Crockett  was  elected  to  the  legislature,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
When  he  went  to  the  State  Capital  he  felt  that  the  most  impor 
tant  thing  for  him  to  do  was  to  learn  the  meaning  of  the  words 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  921 

government  and  judiciary.  Having  learned  these  points  by  a 
great  deal  of  adroit  questioning,  he  felt  quite  well  equipped. 
He  became  the  fun  maker  of  the  legislature.  While  he  liked 
to  raise  a  laugh  at  others,  he  would  not  stand  a  laugh  at  him 
self.  One  day  a  legislator  referred  to  him  as  "the  gentleman 
from  the  cane."  That  evening  Crockett  invited  the  man  pleas 
antly  to  take  a  walk  with  him,  and  when  they  reached  a  lonely 
spot  announced  that  he  brought  his  companion  there  for  the 
purpose  of  whipping  him  within  an  inch  of  his  life.  The  man 
pleaded  so  hard,  however,  that  Crockett  let  him  off. 

After  the  adjournment  of  the  legislature,  Crockett  again 
determined  to  move  further  west.  He  and  a  companion  struck 
out  into  a  new  region  on  the  Obion  River.  Here  he  killed  deer 
and  elk  almost  without  number.  He  built  a  cabin  and  planted 
a  crop  of  corn.  During  the  summer  he  killed  no  less  than  ten 
bears.  In  the  fall  he  returned  for  his  family  and  brought  them 
to  his  new  quarters. 

His  physical  endurance  was  wonderful.  In  the  winter,  about 
Christmas,  he  was  trying  to  cross  a  slough  by  getting  on  a  log 
and  poling  across.  Somehow  he  fell  into  the  water,  which  was 
ten. feet  deep.  The  weather  was  extremely  cold.  Getting  out 
on  the  bank,  which  was  covered  with  a  deep  snow,  he  removed 
his  clothes  and  hung  them  on  a  tree  to  dry.  He  then  attempted 
to  warm  himself  by  running,  but  found  his  legs  taken  with  the 
cramp,  so  that  he  could  not  make  a  step  six  inches  long.  It 
was  late  in  the  evening  before  he  dragged  himself  back  to  his 
cabin,  a  feat  accomplished  with  infinite  suffering.  Yet  he  relates 
that  he  wrapped  himself  in  bear  skin,  and  lying  down  upon  the 
floor  with  his  feet  to  the  fire,  passed  the  night  with  comfort  and 
awoke  in  the  morning  without  feeling  any  ill  effects  whatever 
from  his  exposure. 

During  the  continuation  of  the  same  storm  which  was  raging 
at  the  time  of  the  above  incident  the  meat  gave  out  in  the 
cabin,  and  the  men  set  out  in  the  blinding  sleet  to  hunt  game. 
Crockett,  with  three  dogs,  one  of  which  was  pretty  old,  started 


922  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

in  a  direction  where  he  thought  he  might  find  a  bear.  Every 
hour  the  storm  grew  more  furious.  The  bushes,  with  which  the 
forest  was  filled,  became  so  thick  with  ice  that  he  could  no 
longer  force  his  way  through.  He  had  seated  himself  on  a  log 
to  rest,  when  he  heard  his  dogs  set  up  a  terrible  barking.  He 
followed  them  as  best  he  could,  but  no  game  was  in  sight,  and 
he  concluded  the  dogs  were  only  making  mischief.  "Just  at 
that  moment,"  says  he,  "looking  on  before  my  dogs,  I  saw  the 
biggest  bear  that  ever  was  seen  in  America.  At  that  distance 
he  looked  like  a  big,  black  bull."  He  hurried  forward  to  find 
his  dogs  engaged  in  a  life  and  death  conflict  with  the  bear. 
It  required  three  bullets  to  kill  him. 

The  storm  had  not  abated  at  all.  Crockett  hurried  back 
through  the  icy  forest  to  his  cabin,  twelve  miles  away.  He 
and  the  other  two  men,  who  had  returned  unsuccessful  from 
their  hunt,  taking  four  pack  horses,  set  out  at  once,  in  spite  of 
fatigue  and  tempest,  to  secure  the  game,  an  enterprise  in  which 
they  succeeded.  In  this  way  the  cabin  was  furnished  with  an 
abundant  supply  of  splendid  meat. 

It  soon  occurred  to  Crockett  to  again  offer  himself  for  the 
legislature.  On  a  certain  day  he  appeared  at  a  great  political 
gathering,  and  began  his  own  peculiar  method  of  electioneering. 
Having  mounted  a  stump,  he  began  to  banter  his  opponent,  Dr. 
Butler.  He  took  care  to  assure  his  audience  that  though  he  was 
very  poor,  he  proposed  to  furnish  his  supporters  all  the  whisky 
they  could  drink.  "When  I  goes  electioneering,  I  goes  fixed  for 
the  purpose.  I've  got  a  suit  of  deer  leather  clothes  with  two 
big  pockets.  I  puts  a  bottle  of  whisky  in  one,  and  a  twist  of 
tobacco  in  t'other,  "and  starts  out.  Then  if  I  meets  a  friend, 
why  I  pulls  out  my  bottle  and  gives  him  a  drink.  He'll  be 
mighty  apt,  before  he  drinks,  to  throw  away  his  tobacco.  So, 
when  he  is  done,  I  pulls  my  twist  out  of  t  'other  pocket,  and 
gives  him  a  chaw.  I  never  likes  to  leave  a  man  worse  off  than 
I  found  him." 

Dr.  Butler,  Crockett's  opponent,  lived  in  a  frame  house.     In 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          923 

the  front  room  the  middle  of  the  floor  was  covered  with  a  piece 
of  carpet.  One  day  the  doctor  called  to  some  men,  passing,  to 
come  in  and  take  a  drink.  The  whisky  sat  on  a  table  in  the 
center  of  the  room.  The  men  came  in  and,  of  course,  had 
never  seen  a  carpet  before.  They  walked  cautiously  around 
on  the  bare  part  of  the  floor  without  daring  to  put  their  feet 
upon  the  carpet. 

Soon  afterward,  they  were  heard  inquiring  of  Crockett's 
friends  how  he  lived.  On  learning  that  he  lived  in  a  log  cabin 
of  one  room,  without  any  glass  for  the  window,  and  with  earth 
alone  for  the  floor,  they  declared  that  he  was  the  fellow  for 
them.  "Why,"  said  one  of  them,  "when  Butler  called  us  into 
his  house  to  take  a  drink,  he  spread  down  one  of  his  best  bed 
quilts  for  us  to  walk  on.  He 's  too  proud  for  us."  Crockett  was 
elected  to  the  legislature,  and  served  two  years. 

The  bear  hunter  soon  found  himself  a  famous  man.  Without 
changing  his  mode  of  life,  he  announced  himself  as  a  candidate 
for  Congress,  and  though  unable  to  read,  and  barely  able  to  sign 
hi?  name,  was  elected  by  nearly  three  thousand  majority.  On 
his  way  to  Washington  City,  he  reached  Raleigh,  North  Caro- 
lir  P  on  a  cold,  wet  evening.  Entering  the  tavern  and  elbowing 
hi«  way  through  the  crowd  toward  the  fire,  some  fellow  gave 
him  a  shove,  and  said  with  an  oath,  "  Who  are  you  T  Crockett 
roared  out,  "  I  am  that  same  David  Crockett,  fresh  from  the 
back  woods,  half  horse,  half  alligator,  a  little  touched  with  the 
snapping  turtle.  I  can  wade  the  Mississippi,  leap  the  Ohio,  ride 
upon  a  streak  of  lightning,  and  slip  without  a  scratch  down  a 
honey  locust.  I  can  whip  my  weight  in  wild  cats,  and  if  any 
gentleman  pleases  for  a  ten-dollar  bill  he  can  throw  in  a  panther. 
I  can  hug  a  bear  too  close  for  comfort,  and  eat  any  man  opposed 
to  General  Jackson."  They  made  room  for  Crockett  around 
the  fire ! 

When  the  bear  hunter  got  to  Washington,  he  was  invited 
to  dine  with  President  Adams,  at  a  state  dinner.  The  news 
papers  of  the  time  gave  what  purported  to  be  Crockett's  own 


924  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

account  of  that  dinner.  "  I  went  to  dinner,  and  I  walked  all 
around  the  long  table  looking  for  something  that  I  liked.  At 
last  I  took  my  seat  beside  a  fat  goose,  and  I  helped  myself  to 
as  much  of  it  as  I  wanted.  I  had  n't  took  three  bites  when  I 
saw  a  man  away  up  the  table  talking  French  to  a  woman  on 
t'  other  side.  He  dodged  his  head  and  she  dodged  hers,  and 
then  they  got  to  drinking  wine  across  the  table.  When  I  looked 
back  again,  my  plate  was  gone,  goose  and  all.  I  seed  a  white 
man  walking  off  with  it.  I  says,  Hello  mister,  bring  back  my 
plate.  He  fetched  it  back  in  a  hurry,  but  when  he  set  it  down 
before  me,  how  do  you  think  it  was?  Licked  as  clean  as  my 
hand.  If  it  was  n't  I  wish  I  may  be  shot.  Says  he,  What  will 
you  have,  sir?  And  says  I,  you  may  well  say  t^iat  after  steal 
ing  my  goose.  I  then  filled  my  plate  with  bacon  and  greens, 
and  whenever  I  looked  up  or  down  the  table  I  held  on  to  my 
plate  with  my  left  hand. 

"  When  we  were  all  done  eating,  I  saw  a  man  coming  along 
carrying  a  great  glass  thing,  with  a  glass  handle  below,  some 
thing  like  a  candlestick.  It  was  stuck  full  of  little  glass  cups 
with  something  in  them  that  looked  good  to  eat.  Says  I,  Mis 
ter,  bring  that  thing  here — thinks  I,  let's  taste  'em.  I  found  they 
were  mighty  sweet  and  good,  so  I  took  six  of  them." 

Crockett  found  that  his  constituency  were  so  much  annoyed 
by  this  story  that  he  obtained  certificates  of  his  good  behavior 
at  the  table  from  three  New  York  congressmen.  This  done, 
he  felt  better.  Crockett  passed  two  terms  in  Congress.  The 
third  time  he  stood  for  election  he  was  beaten.  But  after  two 
years  of  retirement  was  elected  for  another  term.  During  this 
last  term  he  made  a  tour  of  the  eastern  cities,  attracting  great 
attention. 

In  Boston  he  made  a  speech  full  of  force  and  rude  eloquence, 
surprising  in  the  knowledge  which  it  displayed,  when  one  con 
siders  the  man,  explaining  why  he  had  become  opposed  to  the 
policy  of  President  Jackson.  The  fifth  time  Crockett  was  a  can 
didate  for  Congress,  he  made  tremendous  efforts.  He  appeared 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE. 


925 


at  the  political  meetings  in  his  old  costume  as  a  bear  hunter, 
with  his  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  and  accompanied  by  his  three 
famous  bear  dogs.  He  made  funny  speeches  and  gave  away 
whisky  like  water.  But  all  in  vain.  His  constituency  could 


COLONEL  DAVID   CROCKETT. 

not  forgive  him  for  going  back  on  Andrew  Jackson.  He  was 
beaten.  He  was  terribly  crushed  by  the  defeat.  Bear  hunting 
and  pioneer  life  had  lost  their  charm.  To  drown  his  sorrow, 
he  determined  to  join  the  adventurers  who  were  thronging  to 
the  state  of  Texas. 

52 


926  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

His  head-quarters  were  at  San  Antonio.  Early  in  the 
month  of  February,  1836,  Santa  Anna,  at  the  head  of  a  large 
Mexican  army,  appeared  before  the  town.  The  defenders  of 
the  place,  seeing  that  they  were  being  surrounded,  withdrew  to 
the  fortress  of  Alamo,  just  outside  the  town  of  San  Antonio. 
Crockett  and  a  few  followers  constituted  a  most  important  part 
of  the  garrison,  which  consisted  of  only  one  hundred  and  fifty 
bold  and  desperate  men.  Over  the  battlements  they  unfurled  an 
immense  flag  of  thirteen  stripes,  and  with  a  large,  white  star  of 
five  points  surrounded  by  the  letters  of  the  word  "  TEXAS." 

The  Alamo,  at  that  time,  consisted  of  a  chapel,  seventy-five 
feet  long,  sixty-two  feet  wide,  and  twenty-two  and  a  half  feet 
high,  surrounded  by  walls  of  solid  masonry  four  feet  thick. 
The  upper  part  of  the  walls  were  arranged  for  fourteen  mounted 
cannon.  Besides  this  building  were  two  long  and  narrow  bar 
racks  of  similar  construction,  the  walls  being  of  solid  rock. 
The  singular  structure  was  built  by  Roman  Catholic  mission 
aries  from  Spain,  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  and  was 
occupied  by  them  for  many  years.  Here,  long  years  before, 
the  tireless  priests  had  sought,  by  processions,  chants,  mystical 
emblems,  and  beautiful  ceremonies,  to  win  the  hearts  of  the 
Indians,  and  induce  them  to  adopt  the  true  religion.  These 
efforts  were  not  unsuccessful.  The  good  fathers  found  the 
savages  far  more  disposed  to  virtue  and  more  susceptible  to 
religious  impressions  than  the  Spanish  soldiers,  their  own  coun 
trymen,  attached  to  the  mission,  who  were  gamblers  and  rousta 
bouts  of  the  worst  sort. 

For  several  days  the  enemy  devoted  themselves  to  ravaging 
-the  surrounding  country  and  picking  off  the  defenders  of  the 
fortress  by  their  sharp-shooters.  On  the  morning  of  the  6th  of 
March,  just  at  dawn,  the  garrison,  already  weakened  and  shat 
tered  by  a  bombardment  which  had  lasted  for  two  days,  were 
roused  by  the  single  blast  of  a  bugle  in  the  enemy's  camp.  At 
that  moment,  Santa  Anna's  entire  army  of  three  thousand  men, 
divided  into  three  columns,  a  certain  number  of  men  in  each  of 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          929 

which  carried  axes  and  scaling  ladders,  moved  forward  at  a 
double-quick  to  storm  the  fortress  simultaneously  at  different 
points.  The  cannon  from  the  fortress  rendered  but  little  serv 
ice.  The  gates  were  battered  down  and  the  enemy  swarmed 
over  the  walls.  The  outer  wall  was  abandoned,  and  the  garrison 
took  refuge  in  the  heavy  buildings '  already  described.  All  this 
passed  within  'a  few  minutes  after  the  bugle  sounded. 

"  The  early  loss  of  the  outer  wall,  so  thinly  manned,  was 
inevitable ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  garrison  became  more  con 
centrated,  that  the  main  struggle  began.  They  were  more  com 
pact  as  to  space,  but  not  as  to  unity,  for  there  was  no  communi 
cation  between  the  buildings,  nor  often  between  rooms.  There 
was  now  no  retreat  from  point  to  point ;  each  group  of  defenders 
had  to  fight  and  die  in  the  den  in  which  it  was  brought  to  bay. 
The  struggle  was  made  up  of  a  series  of  separate  and  desperate 
combats,  often  hand  to  hand,  between  squads  of  the  garrison 
and  bodies  of  the  invaders.  From  without,  the  Mexicans 
concentrated  the  fire  of  all  their  cannon  upon  the  openings  in 
the  walls.  Within  was  the  roar  of  the  musketry,  the  cries 
and  curses  of  the  maddened  men,  the  deadly  stabs  given  and 
received,  the  floors  flowing  with  blood  and  encumbered  with 
heaps  of  corpses. 

The  contest  was  too  unequal.  Little  by  little  the  sepa 
rate  squads  of  Texans  were  butchered  in  the  rooms  in  which 
they  had  taken  refuge.  Only  six  men  of  the  entire  garrison 
remained  alive.  Of  these  David  Crockett  was  one.  He  stood 
in  the  corner  of  the  room  like  a  lion  at  bay.  Twenty  Mexi 
cans  lay  dead  at  his  feet.  His  few  comrades,  too,  had  fallen, 
and  lay  in  death,  their  hands  still  clenching  the  hair  and  throats 
of  their  enemies.  As  the  Mexicans  poured  in  upon  him,  the 
brave  man  still  fought,  his  eyes  flashing  fire,  his  shattered 
rifle  in  his  right  hand,  and  in  his  left  a  gleaming  bowie-knife 
dripping  with  blood.  His  face  was  covered  with  blood  from  a 
gash  in  his  forehead.  ^ 

He  was  seized,  disarmed,  and,  with  five  other  prisoners,  also 


930  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

captured  alive  in  different  portions  of  the  fortress,  taken  to 
the  spot  where  Santa  Anna  was  standing.  The  Mexican  com 
mander  cried  out,  "  Kill  them !  kill  them  on  the  spot !" 
Instantly  a  dozen  swords  were  uplifted.  Crockett,,  at  that 
moment,  sprang  like  a  tiger  at  the  throat  of  Santa  Anna,  but, 
before  he  could  reach  him,  a  fatal  thrust  pierced  his  heart,  and 
he  fell  without  a  word.  There  still  remained,  however,  upon 
his  brow  the  frown  of  indignation,  and  his  lip  was  curled  with 
a  smile  of  defiance  and  scorn. 


THE  FIGHTING  PARSON. 

Andrew  Jackson  Potter  was  born  in  Chariton  county,  Mis 
souri,  April  3,  1830.  His  parents  were  from  Kentucky,  and 
settled  finally  in  what  is  now  called  Gentry  county,  where  he 
spent  his  childhood  days.  His  father  died  in  1840.  The  boy 
was  nimble,  fearless,  self-reliant,  and  at  an  early  age  earned  a 
distinction  as  rider  at  horse  races.  "Andy's  horse  always  won." 

At  the  beginning  of  the  Mexican  war  he  entered  the  army, 
but  was  rejected  because  he  was  under  size.  In  a  few  days 
he  was  employed  as  teamster  in  a  wagon  train  of  army  sup 
plies  destined  for  Santa  Fe.  About  the  fifth  night  after  leaving 
Fort  Leavenworth  the  caravan  was  attacked  by  the  Indians. 
One  man  was  killed  by  a  ball  which  passed  through  Potter's 
clothes. 

A  day  or  two  afterward  two  Indians  traveled  with  the  teams 
all  afternoon.  In  the  evening  three  others  of  friendly  bearing 
appeared.  The  next  day,  two  or  three  small  groups  fell  in  with 
the  train.  Suddenly  a  band  of  Cheyenne  warriors  with  drawn 
bows  surrounded  the  train.  The  drivers,  terror-stricken,  hud 
dled  together  behind  the  wagons.  Potter  stole  toward  a  pony 
grazing  at  the  road-side  intending  to  mount  the  animal  and 
fly  when  the  killing  commenced.  The  capture  ended,  how 
ever,  oy  the  savages  loading  themselves  with  merchandise  from 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  931 

the  wagons,  and  leaving  the  train  to  proceed  without  other 
damage. 

A  month  afterward  a  more  serious  attack  was  made  on  them. 
While  the  teamsters  were  eating  supper,  the  war  whoop  and  a 
shower  of  arrows  signaled  them  to  arms.  The  train-master  had 
drilled  his  men,  fifty  in  number,  armed  with  flint-locks,  to  form 
for  the  defensive  in  two  divisions,  the  first  to  deliver  their  fire 
when  ordered,  and  while  they  reloaded,  the  other  company  to 
fire.  By  this  method  the  savages  were  given  a  hot  reception,  and 
in  an  hour  or  so,  withdrew  across  the  river,  leaving  a  number 
of  ponies  and  pools  of  blood  as  evidence  of  their  loss.  At  the 
first  volley  fired  Potter  dropped,  as  his  comrades  thought  dead. 
But  the  old  blunderbuss  of  a  gun  had  merely  kicked  him  over. 
The  sight  and  danger  of  savages  soon  lost  their  terror,  and 
hunting  excursions  were  indulged  in  by  the  less  cautious  of  the 
company. 

On  one  occasion  Potter  found  himself  alone.  While  leisurely 
letting  his  mule  graze  he  discovered  a  number  of  Indians  stealing 
along  to  cut  him  off  from  the  teams.  Quick  as  thought,  leaping 
from  a  prostrate  position,  he  was  on  the  mule  and  slashing  his 
spurs  into  its  sides.  He  thrashed  the  frightened  brute  wildly 
with  his  fists.  In  his  insane  haste  to  mount,  he  failed  to  catch 
the  reins,  which  had  been  lengthened  to  let  the  mule  graze.  It 
happened  that  the  animal  was  headed  toward  the  wagons,  and 
the  rider  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  kick  and  pound,  and  the 
mule  nothing  to  do  but  run.  And  they  were  at  it,  each  to  the 
last  extent  of  strength.  The  rider  had  been  trained  to  race, 
and  had  always  won.  The  mule  was  being  trained  at  a  fearful 
rate.  They  sped  through  brush  and  rocks  and  logs.  Every 
leap  seemed  unto  death.  Potter,  yet  daring  danger  at  every 
step,  swept  on  and  on.  Arrows  grazed  him  every  moment. 
The  savages,  yelling,  were  at  his  very  heels.  They  had  been 
leveling  their  lances  for  a  mile,  preparing  to  hurl  them  at  him. 
He  was  barely  beyond  their  reach.  A  few  yards  to  his  right, 
they  were  abreast  of  him !  A  moment  more,  dead  or  safe !  A 


932  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

gully  momentarily  hindered  those  who  were  in  the  act  of  strik 
ing  him  down.  A  turn  in  the  trail,  and  he  was  in  the  camp. 

Potter  abandoned  ox-driving  in  April,  1851,  and  took  the 
position  of  interpreter,  guide,  property  man,  and  generalissimo 
of  a  company  of  Mormons.  His  outfit  was  a  musket,  knife, 
revolver,  and  mule.  The  first  night  the  Mexicans  stole  the 
mule.  The  Mormons  turned  pale  at  the  rage  of  their  guide. 
Mounted  on  a  borrowed  horse,  he  galloped  away  at  early 
dawn  to  recover  his  property.  He  made  an  exhaustive  search 
through  the  region  before  he  found  four  greasers  surrounding 
the  animal  and  trying  to  "rope  it."  He  dashed  into  their 
midst  with  his  "  pepper-box  "  revolver  and  shot  one  dead.  The 
other  three  made  at  him  with  their  knives.  For  ten  minutes 
he  was  the  busiest  man  alive,  but  kept  their  blades  out  of  his 
body,  if  not  his  clothes.  Well-nigh  dead  with  exhaustion  from 
the  terrible  struggle,  he  at  length  wounded  two  and  the  other 
fled.  His  Mormon  employes  saw  the  fight  from  a  distance, 
and  greeted  the  victor  with  a  triumphant  reception. 

As  a  Mormon  escort,  Potter  was  not  happy,  so  he  took  a 
number  of  men  and  made  his  way  to  the  mines  of  Arizona, 
where  they  gathered  a  quantity  of  precious  metal.  But  game 
was  scarce,  and  the  Apaches  were  harassing.  With  seven 
picked  men  Potter  made  a  journey  of  a  thousand  miles,  to  San 
Antonio,  Texas.  He  was  now  of  age,  with  an  iron  constitution, 
and  a  frame  of  the  finest  and  most  powerful  build.  His  splen 
did  muscles,  compacted  by  a  hardy  frontier  life,  were  perfect. 
His  courage  was  superb ;  yet  under  this  cover  of  brawn  and  in 
this  gnarled  and  knotty  creature,  throbbed  a  heart  of  womanly 
tenderness.  Frank,  peaceable,  kind-hearted,  generous,  brave,  he 
was  universally  popular. 

At  a  Methodist  camp-meeting  he  became  a  Christian.  It 
was  from  midnight  to  noon  with  him  in  an  instant.  His  Chris 
tianity  was  of  the  "  Andrew  Jackson  "  type,  through  and  through, 
and  well  adapted  to  the  purposes  of  the  locality.  A  religious 
old  gentleman  had  a  tract  of  timber  land  which  was  being  taken 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.          933 

by  a  saw-mill  man  in  spite  of  all  the  remonstrances,  threats, 
and  persuasions  that  could  be  made.  One  day  the  injured 
neighbor  came  out  and  related  his  grievance  to  Potter.  The  job 
suited  him.  He  was  a  peace-maker.  The  two  called  on  the 
trespassing  bully.  Potter  stated  the  case  in  his  quiet  way,  and 
said,  "  Pay  for  what  you  have  taken  and  stop."  It  was  done. 

This  little  incident  is  a  hint  at  a  marvelous  faculty  which  he 
possessed  when  aroused  or  enraged.  He  spoke  in  a  low  tone, 
which  gave  each  word  the  emphasis  of  a  sledge-hammer.  His 
look,  manner,  and  tone  at  such  a  time  would  instantly  assuage 
the  fury  of  the  fiercest  ruffian.  In  Texas,  they  said,  "Potter's 
man  always  whips."  The  Church  people,  especially,  gave  him 
a  liberal  share  of  the  various  burdens. 

On  a  stormy  evening  he  was  called  to  see  a  pugnacious  old 
Dutchman  who  had  come  home  drunk,  beaten  his  wife  horri 
bly,  and  driven  his  family  out  in  the  storm.  This  was  in  Pot 
ter's  line.  He  went,  pleased  that  so  much  of  his  border  expe 
rience  was  available  in  religious  work.  The  old  Dutchwoman 
was  found  sitting  by  a  fodder  stack  in  the  rain,  bruised  and 
crying.  The  cabin  door  was  barred.  With  one  kick,  Potter 
smashed  it  in.  He  dealt  the  old  man  a  terrific  blow,  which 
sent  him  headlong  into  the  fire,  then  jerked  him  out,  jumped 
astride  him,  and  commenced  to  pound  and  exhort  the  old  sin 
ner  with  amazing  vigor.  The  response  from  the  prostrate  con 
gregation  was  so  faint  and  slow,  that  he  was  tempted  to  close 
the  exercises.  With  a  minute's  respite  and  a  sup  of  water,  the 
congregation  called  for  its  gun.  A  quiet  "  No,"  from  the  par 
son  satisfied  the  audience  that  prayer  could  not  be  answered. 
Another  intermission,  a  little  more  bathing  and  camphor,  en 
abled  the  congregation  to  yell  for  its  knife.  A  gesture  with 
the  fist  at  the  congregation  stopped  this.  When  Potter  left 
the  house  the  Dutchman  was  subdued  enough. 

In  1861  Potter  visited  the  scenes  of  his  childhood  in  Mis 
souri.  In  the  family  where  he  visited  was  a  man  who  abused 
his  wife  most  cruelly.  Guiltily  suspecting  that  Potter  might 


934  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

interfere,  he  swore  that  he  would  knife  the  parson  if  he  came 
in  his  way.  This  was  a  case  after  Potter's  own  heart.  He 
told  the  fellow  that  he  must  never  repeat  this  work.  The  man 
whipped  out  his  knife,  seized  his  gun,  and  was  about  to  fire, 
when  Potter  quietly  approached,  took  the  weapon  out  of  his 
hands,  and  pounded  him  in  the  stomach  with  the  muzzle.  The 
ruffian  stood  pitiable  and  unresisting,  saying,  "You  have  my 
arms,  I  can  not  fight."  "Take  your  gun,"  said  Potter,  thrust 
ing  it  at  him,  "and  ask  that  woman's  forgiveness,  or  you  will 
never  need  a  gun  or  knife  again."  It  was  done. 

When  the  war  broke  out,  Potter  enlisted  in  a  cavalry  regi 
ment.  He  was  a  favorite  among  the  soldiers.  Long  before  his 
commission  was  issued  he  was,  by  common  consent,  made  chap 
lain.  Among  the  cavalrymen  was  a  six-foot  Texan,  of  power 
ful  build,  overbearing,  and  quarrelsome.  He  was  a  desperate 
character.  No  one  cared  to  resist  any  bearable  imposition  from 
him.  He  became  the  terror  of  the  camp. 

Texan  justice  is  swift.  The  Fighting  Parson  resolved  to 
take  the  matter  in  hand.  A  crowd  gathered  around  as  he 
walked  toward  the  bully  and  shouted,  "You  are  a  liar.  Now 
resent  it."  The  stalwart  Texan  rushed  at  his  antagonist  to 
stamp  him  in  the  dust.  A  hundred  soldiers  who  knew  little 
of  the  parson,  drew  their  knives  to  protect  him.  He  pushed 
the  ruffian  in  the  breast,  saying,  "Coward,  stop!"  The  Texan 
was  cowed  into  a  wilted  puppy. 

A  slanderous  statement  was  made  in  a  Brownsville  paper 
about  Wood's  regiment,  while  they  were  in  camp  at  that  place. 
The  chaplain  sought  out  the  editor  who  had  thus  defied  the 
troops.  The  sermon  was  short,  but  the  congregation  grew  pale 
and  trembling  as  it  proceeded.  The  announcement  at  the  close, 
that  the  exercises  would  be  resumed  in  half  an  hour,  when  the 
preacher  and  a  squad  of  soldiers  would  pitch  the  press  and  au 
dience  into  the  Rio  Grande,  to  be  washed  'of  their  vileness, 
completed  the  conversion  of  the  congregation,  and  it  started 
through  a  back  window  pell-mell  for  a  new  field  of  usefulness. 


HEROES  OF  THE  LONE  STAR  STATE.  935 

Colonel  Debray's  regiment,  of  which  Potter  was  chaplain, 
was  ordered  to  Navasota,  in  1864,  to  join  in  the  campaign 
against  General  Banks.  On  reaching  their  destination,  the 
commissary  refused  to  honor  the  colonel's  order  for  supplies. 
After  two  or  three  failures  the  parson  went.  "Who  are  you?" 
growled  the  officer.  "A  white  man,"  said  a  quiet,  deep  voice. 
There  was  unburnt  powder  in  the  tone.  The  commissary 
glanced  at  his  customer.  "What  do  you  want?"  said  the  offi 
cer.  "  Corn,"  said  Potter,  "  and  we  '11  have  it  or  arrest  you." 
"  Do  n't  try  that,"  said  the  commissary ;  "  we  will  settle  this 
with  six  shooters."  "I  am  ready,"  said  Potter.  The  corn  was 
instantly  furnished. 

In  1872  the  Fighting  Parson  was  returned  by  the  West 
Texas  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Church  to  the  Uvalde  Cir 
cuit,  in  a  wild  and  mountainous  region  of  the  State.  It  was  a 
country  where  the  settlers'  cabins  were  crowded  into  little  val 
leys,  peculiarly  open  to  Indian  attack.  The  circuit  rider  was 
concluding  his  first  year  of  service  when  the  Indians  became 
very  troublesome.  He  was  on  his  way  back  to  his  home  in  the 
mountains,  after  having  attended  an  appointment,  at  the  time 
of  the  incident  about  to  be  related.  He  traveled  in  an  ambu 
lance  drawn  by  a  pair  of  small  mules. 

The  road  led  from  Frio  to  Sabbinal  canon,  through  narrow 
defiles  and  along  lonely  mountain  trails.  The  preacher  was 
armed  with  his  Winchester  rifle,  toward  which  he  cast,  from 
time  to  time,  a  satisfied  glance  as  the  road  became  more  wild 
and  lonely.  Driving  along  the  bottom  of  a  deep  ravine,  he 
saw  far  below  four  Indians  hurrying  toward  him.  His  expe 
rienced  eye  at 'once  taught  him  that  the  situation  was  full  of 
danger.  He  drove  the  ambulance  into  a  sort  of  thicket,  so 
that  when  the  fight  took  place  the  mules  should  not  be  fright 
ened,  and  cautiously  advanced  toward  the  spot  where  he  had 
seen  the  Indians.  He  discovered  them  crouching  near  the 
road,  expecting  his  coming.  He  instantly  attempted  to  fire,  but 
the  weapon,  being  rusty,  did  not  go  off. 


936  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

At  the  click  of  a  trigger  the  Indians  turned  around,  and 
two  of  them  fired,  the  bullets  just  missing  Potter's  right  arm. 
The  latter  again  attempted  to  fire — this  time  with  success,  the 
ball  breaking  the  arm  of  one  of  the  Indians.  The  other  two 
savages  were  unarmed.  They  at  once  seized  their  wounded 
companion  and  hurried  away.  The  white  man  might  have 
killed  them  all,  but  his  gun  was  rusty  and  he  was  afraid  to  fire. 

Returning  to  the  ambulance,  he  got  in,  and  drove  rapidly 
across  the  country.  Reaching  a  dense  thicket,  he  halted, 
cleaned  his  gun,  and  was  reloading  it  when,  looking  upward  at 
the  top  of  a  neighboring  mountain,  his  quick  eye  detected  two 
Indians  taking  aim  at  him.  He  jumped  aside  just"  in  time  to 
save  himself,  and  returned  the  fire.  The  Indians,  however^ 
dodged  behind  a  rock,  and  were  seen  no  more.  Potter  lost  no 
time  in  getting  out  of  the  region,  and  reached  his  little  cabin, 
in  the  mountains  in  safety. 

With  this  incident  our  incomplete  sketch  of  the  Fighting 
Parson  must  terminate.  He  is,  no  doubt,  the  greatest  living 
representative  of  a  class  of  men  who  have  been  found  ever  on 
our  frontiers;  brave  in  beating  back  the  savages;  dauntless  in 
rebuking  the  border  ruffians;  zealous  and  successful  in  planting 
the  seeds  of  law  and  order,  of  civilization  and  religion,  in  the 
wild  soil  of  the  pioneer  heart.  The  greater  part  of  this  man's 
career,  his  encounters  with  ruffians  at  revival  meetings,  his  ser 
mons  in  desperate  neighborhoods,  with  a  pair  of  huge  revolvers 
lying  before  him  on  his  pulpit,  his  eloquent  addresses,  his  pure 
religious  zeal,  lie  outside  of  the  scope  of  this  work.  He  is  still 
living  in  Boerne,  Western  Texas,  ardently  engaged  in  his  sacred 
calling.  The  days  of  fights  are  long  since  over.  At  the  age 
of  fifty-three,  he  is  enabled  to  devote  all  his  energies  to  the 
gospel  of  peace. 


WAYNE'S  SCOUTS. 


937 


CHAPTEE  XXXI. 

WAYNE'S    SCOUTS. 

HE  treaty  with  the  Iroquois,  or  Six  Nations,  at 
Fort  Stanwix  (October  22,  1784),  by  which 
these  Indian  tribes  ceded  to  the  United  States 
all  their  claims  to  the  lands  west  of  Pennsyl 
vania,  opened  up  the  question  of  settling  these 
lands  by  the  sturdy  pioneers.  But  as  other 
Indian  tribes  claimed  the  right  of  domain,  a 
conference  was  held  the  next  year  at  Fort 
Mclntosh,  near  the  mouth  of  Big  Beaver  Kiver,  with  the  Chip- 
pewas,  Delawares,  Ottawas,  and  Wyandots,  and  a  treaty  con 
cluded  for  the  purchase  of -their  claims.  These  treaties  created 
a  great  commotion  among  certain  Western  Indians,  who  claimed 
that  neither  the  Six  Nations  nor  the  tribes  here  mentioned  had 
a  right  to  cede  to  the  United  States  the  land  in  question.  Ac 
cordingly,  a  large  Indian  council,  composed  of  chiefs  and  dele 
gations  of  the  different  Western  tribes,  was  held  in  the  month 
of  August,  1785  at  Ouatenon,  on  the  Wabash.  At  this  council 
it  was  reported  that  several  Indians  were  killed  at  the  hands 
of  the  whites  whereupon  they  demanded  the  removal  even  of 
their  old  friends,  the  French  inhabitants  of  Post  Vincennes,  de 
claring  that  the  Indians  were  determined  to  make  war  on  the 
American  settlers,  and  that  the  French  remaining  would  have  to 
share  their  fate. 

In  view  of  these  proceedings,  in  the  autumn  of  1785,  Major 
Doughty  was  ordered  to  the  mouth  of  the  Muskingum,  where 
he  erected  Fort  Harmar.  Enraged  at  this  inroad  made  upon 


938  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

their  territory,  as  they  claimed,  the  Indians  made  sallies  into 
Kentucky,  killing  the  settlers,  burning  their  cabins,  and  driving 
away  their  cattle. 

As  these  incursions  were  mostly  undertaken  by  the  Wabash 
Indians,  notably  the  Piankashaws,  a  commission  was  sent  to 
Post  Vincennes,  to  treat  separately  with  these  tribes.  Various 
circumstances  caused  the  change  of  time  and  place  of  this  confer 
ence,  whereupon  a  treaty  was  made  by  Gen.  Geo.  Rogers  Clark, 
Richard  Butler,  and  Samuel  H.  Parsons,  the  commissioners  at 
Fort  Finney,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Great  Miami  (January  31, 
1786) — not,  however,  with  the  Piankashaws,  and  others  named 
in  the  original  resolution,  but  with  the  Delawares,  Wyandots, 
and  Shawanese — whereby  a  tract  of  land  was  assigned  these 
tribes  at  the  head-waters  of  the  two  Miamis  and  the  Wabash, 
west  of  the  Chippewas. 

Meanwhile  the  States  of  Connecticut  and  Virginia,  which, 
by  their  colonial  charters,  possessed  a  claim  to  all  the  lands 
lying  north-west  of  the  Ohio  River,  ceded  their  title  to  the 
general  government,  excepting  a  sufficient  portion  to  satisfy  the 
military  land-warrants  issued  to  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  the 
regular  line  in  the  Revolutionary  war.  These  exceptions  are 
known  as  the  Connecticut  or  Western  Reserve,  and  the  Virginia 
Military  District — the  former  in  northern  Ohio  and  the  latter 
between  the  Scioto  and  Little  Miami  rivers. 

During  the  summer  of  1786  Congress  began  to  deliberate 
upon  a  plan  for  the  government  of  this  Territory,  and  on  July 
13,  1787,  the  "  Ordinance  for  the  government  of  the  territory 
of  the  United  States  north-west  of  the  river  Ohio,"  was  adopted. 
Shortly  thereafter  (October  3d)  Congress  ordered  seven  hun 
dred  troops  for  the  defense  of  the  settlers,  and  two  days  later 
Arthur  St.  Clair,  a  general  of  the  Revolution,  was  appointed 
governor  of  the  newly  organized  territory. 

As  the  way  now  seemed  open  for  settlements,  the  "  Ohio 
Company,"  organized  by  officers  of  the  army  and  others,  in 
Boston,  the  year  before,  held  a  meeting  and  adopted  a  plan  for 


WA  YNE'S  SCO  UTS.  941 

a  proposed  colony  on  lands  purchased  by  them  on  the  Mus- 
kingum  River.  Early  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1788,  the  settlers 
left  New  England,  and  on  April  7th  the  first  settlement  of 
whites  in  Ohio  was  begun,  under  the  ^auspices  of  this  company, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  said  river,  where,  on  that  day,  the  founda 
tion  was  laid  of  the  city  of  Marietta.  The  town  was  so  named 
in  honor  of  the  French  queen,  Marie  Antoinette.  The  leaders 
of  the  enterprise  were  Rufus  Putnam,  James  H.  Varnum,  Ma- 
nasseh  Cutler,  and  Benjamin  Tupper,  and  the  purchase  made  by 
them  comprised  1,500,000  acres.  The  most  remarkable  build 
ing  which  the  settlers  erected  was  a  large  fort,  to  be  used  as  a 
place  of  safety  in  case  of  attack  by  the  savages.  The  streets 
were  surveyed,  lots  laid  out,  and  a  public  square,  named  Campus 
Martins,  surrounding  the  fort,  was  reserved. 

On  July  9,  1788,  the  new  governor  arrived,  and  "the  colony 
began  to  assume  form."  Along  with  the  governor,  Samuel 
Holden  Parsons,  John  Armstrong,  and  James  H.  Varnum  were 
appointed  judges,  and  Winthrop  Sargent,  secretary.  A  meeting 
of  these  territorial  officers  was  held  on  the  25th  of  the  same 
month,  when  the  first  law  was  enacted — "for  regulating  and 
establishing  the  militia,"  and  the  next  day  the  official  inaugu 
ration  of  the  territorial  government  was  promulgated  by  the 
reading  of  the  governor's  proclamation,  erecting  all  the  country 
ceded  by  the  Indians  east  of  the  Scioto  River  into  the  county 
of  Washington,  and  formally  declaring  the  operations  of  the 
laws  of  the  United  States,  provided  for  the  territory  by  the 
ordinance  of  1787,  in  force.  On  the  2d  of  September  the  first 
court  was  held,  and  opened  with  becoming  ceremonies,  which 
are  described  in  the  "American  Pioneer,"  as  follows  : 

"  The  procession  was  formed  at  the  Point  (where  most  of 
the  settlers  resided),  in  the  following  order:  1st,  the  high  sheriff 
with  his  drawn  sword ;  2d,  the  citizens ;  3d,  the  officers  of  the 
garrison  at  Fort  Harmar ;  4th,  the  members  of  the  bar ;  5th,  the 
supreme  judges ;  6th,  the  governor  and  clergymen ;  7th,  the 
newly  appointed  judges  of  the  Common  Pleas,  Generals  Rufus 


942  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Putnam  and  Benjamin  Tupper.  They  marched  up  a  path  that 
had  been  cut  and  cleared  through  the  forest  to  Campus  Martius 
Hall  (stockade),  where  the  whole  counter-marched,  and  the 
judges  (Putnam  and  Tupper)  took  their  seats.  The  clergy 
man,  Rev.  Dr.  Cutler,  then  invoked  the  divine  blessing.  The 
sheriff,  Colonel  Ebenezer  Sproat  (one  of  nature's  nobles),  pro 
claimed  with  his  solemn  'Oyez,  that  a  court  is  opened  for  the 
administration  of  even-handed  justice  to  the  poor  and  the  rich, 
to  the  guilty  and  the  innocent,  without  respect  to  persons ;  none 
to  be  punished  without  a  trial  by  their  peers,  and  then  in  pur 
suance  of  the  laws  and  evidence  in  the  case.'" 

The  instructions  received  by  Governor  St.  Clair  were  of  this 
import :  That,  whereas  no  conclusive  treaty  had  as  yet  been 
made  with  all  the  Indian  tribes  in  regard  to  the  boundary,  he 
should  endeavor  to  hold  a  general  council  with  all  those  tribes 
inhabiting  the  country  north-west  of  the  Ohio  River  and  about 
the  lakes,  at  such  times  and  places  as  he  should  appoint,  for  the 
purpose  of  ascertaining  the  causes  of  uneasiness  among  them, 
hearing  their  complaints,  regulating  the  trade  with  them,  and 
amicably  settling  all  affairs  concerning  the  lands  and  boundaries 
between  them  and  the  United  States.  After  corresponding  by 
runners  with  the  Indians,  it  was  agreed,  in  deference  to  their 
wishes,  that  a  conference  should  be  held  at  the  falls  of  the  Mus- 
kingum,  better  known  as  "  Duncan's  Falls,"  in  what  they  termed 
their  own  country,  beyond  the  guns  of  any  fort.  Early  in  June 
1788,  General  Harmar  received  instructions  from  Pittsburgh, 
where  St.  Clair,  on  his  way  to  Fort  Harmar,  stayed  a  few  weeks, 
to  send  a  detachment  to  "  Duncan's  Falls,"  and  prepare  there  a 
council-house  and  buildings  for  storing  the  goods  to  be  distrib 
uted  among  the  Indians. 

Unfortunately  the  detachment  was  treacherously  attacked 
by  some  renegade  Chippewa  and  Ottawa  Indians,  and  two 
soldiers  were  killed  and  two  others  wounded,  whereupon  Gov 
ernor  St.  Clair  ordered  the  provisions  back  to  Fort  Harmar,  and 
changed  the  place  for  the  conference  to  the  fort.  He  immedi- 


WA  YNE'S  SCO  UTS.  943 

ately  sent  messengers  with  a  speech  to  the  various  nations  and 
tribes,  setting  forth  his  reasons  for  the  change,  urging  their 
coming,  and  guaranteeing  them  an  unmolested  attendance  and  a 
safe  departure,  whether  a  treaty  should  be  concluded  or  not. 

The  Indians,  who  acted  for  the  most  part  under  the  council 
and  advice  of  the  celebrated  Mohawk  war-chief,  JOSEPH  BRANT 
(Thayendanegea),  held  it,  however,  improper  to  change  the  loca 
tion  of  the  conference  once  determinated,  and  prepared  them 
selves  for  peace  or  war.  They  urged  that  the  marauding 
Indians  at  "Duncan's  Falls,"  who  committed  the  attack  on  the 
sentries  at  the  store-house,  were  none  of  the  parties  to  the 
treaty,  but  were  mere  straggling  renegades ;  and  furthermore, 
that  they  had  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  whites  all  of  the 
marauders,  who  were  then  prisoners  at  Fort  Harmar.  They  fur 
thermore  assured  them  that  the  whites  should  have  nothing  to 
fear  at  the  falls,  but  on  the  contrary,  that  they  themselves 
could  not  feel  easy,  and  consequently  were  hostile  to  holding  a 
council  to  adjust  peace  measures  under  the  guns  of  Harmar  and 
Campus  Martius. 

Young  John  Brant,  son  of  Thayendanegea,  came  down  the 
Tuscarawas  and  Muskingum  trail  with  two  hundred  warriors, 
camping  at  "Duncan's  Falls,"  from  where  they  informed  Gov 
ernor  St.  Clair  by  runners  that  they  desired  the  treaty  prelim 
inaries  to  be  fixed  there.  The  governor  suspected  a  plot  to  get 
him  to  the  falls  and  abduct  him ;  yet  nothing  had  transpired  that 
would  warrant  any  suspicion  of  that  import.  He  sent  Brant's 
runners  back  with  word  that  he  would  soon  answer  by  a  ranger. 

The  governor  then  selected  for  this  important  mission  an  ex 
pert  and  trustworthy  person,  Hamilton  Kerr,  a  comrade  of  the 
celebrated  Lewis  Wetzel,  the  Indian  hunter  of  the  Ohio  valley. 
He  was  perfectly  reliable,  comparatively  shrewd,  and  possessed 
of  a  quick  eye  for  observation  of  all  such  matters  as  might  be 
useful  information  for  the  governor.  Kerr  accordingly  left  Fort 
Harmar  on  the  road  to  "  Duncan's  Falls,"  to  reconnoiter  and  to 
deliver  St.  Glair's  letter. 


944  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

But  there  was  a  third  party  that  had  overheard  the  arrange 
ments  made  between  the  governor  and  the  hunter.  This  was 
St.  Glair's  eldest  daughter,  Louisa.  She  at  once  resolved  to 
become  the  messenger  of  her  father's  letter  to  John  Brant,  with 
whom  she  had  become  acquainted  in  Philadelphia.  Without 
communicating  her  intention  to  any  one,  she  set  out  from  the 
fort  immediately  after  Kerr,  whom  she  passed  on  the  way,  she 
keeping  the  trail,  while  Kerr  cautiously  crept  through  the  woods. 
A  short  distance  above  Waterford,  Kerr  perceived  fresh  tracks, 
and  keeping  the  river  in  sight,  crept  on  a  bluff.  Then  rising 
upon  his  feet  to  espy  who  caused  the  tracks,  he  heard  the  laugh 
of  a  woman.  Coming  down  to  the  trail  he  saw  Louisa  St.  Clair 
on  a  pony,  dressed  Indian  style,  with  a  short  rifle  over  her 
shoulder. 

Stupefied  with  amazement,  the  ranger  lost  his  speech,  well 
knowing  Louisa,  who  was  the  bravest  and  boldest  girl  of  all  at 
the  fort.  She  had  left,  as  has  already  been  said,  without  the 
knowledge  of  any  one ;  and  calling  "  Ham "  (as  he  was  famil 
iarly  known)  to  his  senses,  told  him  she  was  going  to  "  Dun 
can's  Falls "  to  see  Brant.  Expostulations  on  his  part  only 
made  her  laugh  the  louder,  and  she  twitted  him  on  his  comical 
dress — head  turbaned  with  a  red  handkerchief,  hunting-shirt, 
but  no  trousers,  the  breech-clout  taking  their  place. 

Taking  her  pony  by  the  head,  he  led  it  up  to  the  trail,  and 
at  night  they  supped  on  dried  deer  meat  from  Kerr's  pouch. 
The  pony  was  tied,  and  Louisa  sat  against  a  tree  and  slept, 
rifle  in  hand,  while  Kerr  watched  her.  Next  morning  they 
pursued  their  way,  and  finally  came  in  sight  of  the  Indian 
camp.  She  then  took  her  father's  letter  from  the  ranger,  and 
telling  him  to  hide  and  await  her  return,  dashed  off  on  her  pony 
directly  into  the  Indian  camp,  where  she  soon  became  a  prisoner. 
She  asked  for  Brant,  who  appeared  in  war  panoply,  but  was 
abashed  at  her  gaze.  She  handed  him  the  letter,  remarking 
that  they  had  met  before,  he  as  a  student  on  a  visit  from  col 
lege  to  Philadelphia,  and  she  as  the  daughter  of  St.  Clair  at 


WA  YNE'S  SCO  UTS.  945 

school.  He  bowed,  being  educated,  read  the  letter,  and  became 
excited.  Louisa,  perceiving  this,  said  she  had  risked  her  life 
to  see  him,  and  asked  for  a  guard  back  to  Marietta.  Brant  told 
her  he  guarded  the  brave,  and  would  accompany  her  home.  In 
the  evening  of  the  third  day  they  arrived  with  Hamilton  Kerr 
at  the  fort,  where  she  introduced  Brant  to  her  father,  relating 
the  incident.  After  some  hours  Brant  was  escorted  out  fcf  the 
lines,  returned  to  the  falls,  and  went  up  the  valley  with  his 
warriors. 

The  treaty  concluded  at  Port  Harmar  February  9,  1789,  was 
followed  with  naught  but  evil  for  the  settlers  in  the  territory, 
though  two  additional  tribes,  the  Sacs  and  the  Pottawatamies, 
had  joined  in  the  confirmation  of  the  treaty  of  Fort  Mclntosh, 
the  only  result  realized  at  this  treaty.  A  period  of  Indian  mur 
ders  and  wars  now  set  in,  which  lasted  with  alternately  increas 
ing  and  diminishing  waves  until  the  year  1795.  Yet  even  at 
that  time,  when  destruction  threatened  all  the  whites,  at  the 
hands  of  the  enraged  savages,  the  emigration  westward  was 
very  great.  The  commandant  at  Fort  Harmar  reported  that 
four  thousand  and  five  hundred  persons  passed  that  post  be 
tween  February  and  June  in  the  year  1788. 

In  the  year  1787  Captain  Abraham  Covalt  came  to  Ohio 
from  Redstone  in  Pennsylvania,  and  effected  a  settlement  on 
the  Little  Miami,  near  where  Milford  now  stands.  The  same 
year  Judge  John  Cleves  Symmes,  of  New  Jersey,  crossed  the 
Alleghanies  with  a  small  party  for  the  purposes  of  exploration 
and  purchasing  land  in  the  new  territory,  and,  while  in  the 
Miami  country,  fell  in  with  Major  Benjamin  Stites,  of  Redstone, 
who  had  been  pursuing  some  Indian  horse-thieves.  The  latter, 
learning  the  intentions  of  Symmes  and  his  party,  at  once  set 
about  securing  an  interest  in  the  new  purchase.  When  the  ex 
plorers  returned  east,  Symmes  obtained  from  Congress  a  grant  of 
all  the  .lands  lying  between  the  two  Miami  Rivers,  and  running 
north  to  the  treaty  line,  the  entire  tract  being  supposed  to  con 
tain  one  million  acres.  Upon  actual  survey  it  was  found  to  con- 

53 


946  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

tain  only  about  750,000  acres,  and  of  this  Symmes  eventually 
paid  for  less  than  250,000.  As  soon  as  he  had  obtained  from 
Congress  the  patent  to  his  lands,  he  published  (November  26, 
1787)  a  pamphlet,  setting  forth  in  most  glowing  terms  the  beau 
ties  and  value  of  the  "  Miami  Lands,"  together  with  the  advan 
tages  offered  to  the  first  settlers. 

Encouraged  by  the  reports  of  the  fertility  of  the  soil,  the 
prospects  of  larger  gains,  and  the  advantages  to  be  secured  for 
themselves  and  their  families,  a  small  party,  composed  mostly 
of  land  surveyors  and  agents,  immediately  left  New  Jersey  to 
visit  the  "Miami  Purchase."  Among  this  party  was  Matthias 
Denman,  who  bought  from  Symmes  the  eighteenth  section  and 
the  fractional  section  seventeen  bordering  on  the  Ohio  River, 
of  the  first  fractional  range  of  Symmes's  lands,  between  seven 
and  eight  hundred  acres,  at  a  price  of  five  shillings  per  acre, 
continental  currency,  then  worth  but  five  shillings  per  pound. 
Upon  this  land,  for  which  Denman  paid,  in  real  value,  only 
about  $125,  is  now  situated  the  principal  portion  of  the  city 
of  Cincinnati,  with  its  thousands  of  elegant  palaces  and  business 
blocks,  valued  at  upwards  of  a  hundred  million  dollars. 

When  Denman  arrived  at  Limestone  (now  Maysville,  Ky.), 
he  associated  himself  with  Colonel  Robert  Patterson  and  a  per 
son  named  Jean  Filson,  a  Frenchman  from  Kentucky,  who 
acted  as  a  school-master  in  Lexington,  and  likewise  as  a  land- 
surveyor.  Filson  was  a  man  of  some  prominence  in  the  western 
backwoods,  having  written  a  "History  of  Kentucky,"  which 
was  published  in  Philadelphia,  and  of  which  a  French  and  Ger 
man  edition  had  likewise  appeared,  the  first  in  Paris,  the  latter 
in  Frankfort-on-the-Main.  These  three  men  resolved  to  found 
a  town  upon  the  Denman  purchase,  of  which  Filson,  who  knew 
the  place,  prepared  a  plan,  calling  it  Losantiville.  This  name 
which  was  a  curious  combination  of  Greek,  Latin,  and  French, 
was  to  designate  at  once  the  locality  of  the  town :  "  L,"  standing 
for  Licking ;  " os"  the  mouth ;  " anti"  opposite ;  and  " ville"  the 
village — The  village  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Licking  River. 


WA  YNE  >S  SCO  UTS.  947 

In  December,  a  party,  among  them  Patterson,  Filson,  Judge 
Symmes,  and  others,  made  an  expedition  to  the  Miami  valley, 
from  which  Filson  never  returned,  having  been  probably  mur 
dered  by  the  Indians. 

The  first  actual  settlers  of  the  town  arrived  December  28, 
1788,  and  in  the  spring  thereafter  the  first  log-cabin  was  erected 
on  the  spot  where  now  the  great  metropolis  of  the  Ohio  valley 
stands.  Already,  however,  two  other  settlements  had  been  be 
gun  on  the  lands  of  Symmes.  In  November,  1788,  Major  Stites 
(Heckewelder  says  his  name,  properly  spelled,  was  Steitz,  which, 
pronounced  in  German,  is  identical  with  the  English  Stites), 
Colonel  Spencer,  Major  Gano,  Judge  Goforth,  and  others,  settled 
themselves  a  short  distance  below  the  mouth  of  the  Little  Miami 
river,  calling  the  place  "  Columbia,"  and  on  January  29,  1789, 
Judge  Symmes  left  Limestone  with  another  party,  settling  at  the 
North  Bend,  where  he  had  designated  that  the  future  great  city 
of  the  Miami  country  should  be  located,  and  which  he  named 
in  honor  of  his  mother,  "  Cleves."  When  the  latter  party 
arrived  at  the  Bend,  they  immediately  proceeded  to  erect  from 
the  planks  of  the  flat-boats,  with  which  they  had  descended  the 
river,  a  number  of  temporary  huts  to  shelter  them  against  the 
cold,  rain,  and  snow.  At  the  earnest  solicitations  of  the  judge, 
General  Harmar  had  in  December,  1788,  dispatched  a  company 
under  command  of  Captain  Kearsey,  numbering  forty-eight  rank 
and  file,  to  protect  the  improvements  just  begun  or  in  contem 
plation  of  beginning,  in  the  Miami  country,  and  a  party  was 
also  sent  from  Limestone  to  guard  the  settlement  at  Columbia, 
where  they  soon  after  arrived.  When  Captain  Kearsey  left 
Fort  Harmar,  it  was  his  intention  to  occupy  with  his  men 
"  Fort  Finney,"  at  the  mouth  of  the  Great  Miami,  which  had 
shortly  before  been  erected  there  by  Captain  Ziegler,  and  which 
was  located  somewhat  in  close  proximity  of  Symmes's  intended 
settlement  at  the  Bend.  This  intention  was,  however,  not  con 
summated,  on  account  of  the  flood  in  the  river,  which  spread 
over  the  lowlands,  rendered  it  difficult  to  reach  the  fort,  where- 


948  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

upon  Captain  Kearsey  descended  with  his  men  to  "  Fort  Steu- 
ben,"  at  the  falls  of  the  Ohio  (now  Louisville),  leaving  the 
settlers  of  Cleves  entirely  unprotected. 

Symmes  complained  to  Major  Willis,  the  commander  at  the 
falls,  of  the  conduct  of  Captain  Kearsey,  and  urging  the  neces 
sity  of  protection  of  the  settlers,  asked  that  a  fort  might  be 
built  at  the  Bend.  As  Captain  Kearsey  reported  that  "  Fort 
Finney "  was  unavailable  for  the  guarding  of  the  settlement 
there,  Major  Willis  dispatched  .Ensign  Lutz,  with  a  squad  of 
seventeen  or  eighteen  men,  to  Cleves,  which,  for  the  time, 
removed  the  apprehensions  of  the  pioneers  at  that  place.  It 
was  not  long,  however,  before  the  Indians  made  an  attack  on 
them,  in  which  one  soldier  was  killed,  and  one  soldier  and  four 
or  five  other  persons  were  wounded. 

Although  the  three  settlements  in  the  Miami  purchase  had 
but  one  object  in*  view  and  shared  the  common  danger,  yet 
there  existed  a  strong  spirit  of  rivalry  among  them,  each  feel 
ing  a  peculiar  pride  in  the  prosperity  of  the  particular  colony 
to  which  he  belonged.  That  spirit  produced  a  strong  influ 
ence  of  the  feelings  on  the  pioneers  of  the  different  villages, 
and  an  esprit  de  corps,  scarcely  to  be  expected  under  circum 
stances  so  critical  and  dangerous  as  those  which  threatened 
them.  For  some  time  it  was  a  matter  of  doubt  which  of 
the  rivals,  Columbia,  Cincinnati,  or  North  Bend  (Cleves)  would 
eventually  becohie  the  chief  seat  of  business.  In  the  beginning 
Columbia,  the  eldest  of  the  three,  took  the  lead,  both  in  num 
ber  of  its  inhabitants,  and  the  convenience  and  appearance  of 
its  dwellings.  It  was  a  flourishing  village,  and  many  believed 
it  would  become  the  great  business  town  of  the  Miami  country. 
That  delusion,  however,  lasted  but  a  short  time.  Next,  the 
North  Bend  settlement  gained  a  decided  advantage  over  it, 
especially  since  the  landing  of  the  troops  to  protect  the  settlers, 
which  induced  many  of  the  first  adventurers  to  plant  them 
selves  there,  believing  that  the  place  would  thus  afford  them 
greater  security  than  the  other  localities. 


WA  YNE'S  SCO  UTS.  949 

It  appears,  however,  that  Ensign  Lutz,  the  commander  of 
the  little  party  posted  there  for  the  protection  of  the  settlers, 
did  not  feel  himself  positively  bound  to  erect  the  fort  at  any 
particular  place,  but  that  he  had  the  liberty  to  select  the  best 
spot  calculated  to  afford  the  most  extensive  protection  to  the  set 
tlers  at  large.  Viewing  his  duty  in  that  light,  he  put  up  a  small 
temporary  work,  sufficiently  strong  to  give  security  to  his  men, 
however  much  Judge  Symmes  entreated  him  to  erect  at  once  a 
substantial  and  spacious  block-house  sufficient  for  the  protection 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  village.  In  fact,  Ensign  Lutz  shortly 
thereafter  left  the  Bend  and  went  to  Losantiville  with  his  com 
mand,  where  he  immediately  began  the  construction  of  a  strong 
military  work,  which  was  completed  during  the  course  of  the 
summer  of  1789,  when  Major  Doughty  arrived  here  with  troops 
from  Fort  Harmar.  There  is  a  romantic  story  connected  with 
this  change  of  base  on  the  part  of  Ensign  Lutz,  which  is  told 
by  Judge  Burnet  in  his  "  Notes  on  the  Early  Settlement  of  the 
North-western  Territory,"  as  follows : 

"While  the  officer  in  command  at  North  Bend  was  looking 
out  very  leisurely  for  a  suitable  site  on  which  to  build  the 
block-house,  he  formed  an  acquaintance  with  a  beautiful  black- 
eyed  female,  who  called  forth  his  most  assiduous  and  tender 
attentions.  She  was  the  wife  of  one  of  the  settlers  at  the 
Bend.  Her  husband  saw  the  danger  to  which  he  would  be 
exposed  if  he  remained  where  he  was.  He  therefore  resolved 
at  once  to  remove  to  Losantiville,  and  very  promptly  executed 
his  resolution.  As  soon  as  the  gallant  commandant  discovered 
that  the  object  of  his  admiration  had  changed  her  residence  he 
began  to  think  that  the  Bend  was  not  an  advantageous  situation 
for  a  military  work,  and  communicated  that  opinion  to  Judge 
Symmes,  who  strenuously  opposed  it.  His  reasoning,  however, 
was  not  as  persuasive  as  the  sparkling  eyes  of  the  fair  Dul- 
cinea,  then  at  Losantiville.  The  result  was  a  determination  to 
visit  Losantiville  and  examine  its  advantages  for  a  military 
post,  which  he  communicated  to  the  judge,  with  an  assurance 


950  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

that  if,  on  examination,  it  did  not  prove  to  be  the  most  eligible 
place,  he  would  return  and  erect  the  fort  at  the  Bend.  The 
visit  was  quickly  made  and  resulted  in  a  conviction  that  the 
Bend  could  not  be  compared  with  Losantiville  as  a  military 
position.  The  troops  were  accordingly  removed  to  that  place, 
and  the  building  of  a  block-house  commenced.  That  movement, 
produced  by  a  cause  whimsical  and  apparently  trivial  in  itself, 
was  attended  with  results  of  incalculable  importance.  It  set 
tled  the  question,  whether  North  Bend  or  Cincinnati  was  to  be 
the  great  commercial  town  of  the  Miami  country.  Thus  we 
see  what  unexpected  results  are  sometimes  produced  by  cir 
cumstances  apparently  trivial.  The  incomparable  beauty  of  a 
Spartan  dame  produced  a  ten  years'  war,  which  terminated  in 
the  destruction  of  Troy;  and  the  irresistible  charms  of  another 
female  transferred  the  commercial  emporium  of  Ohio  from  the 
place  where  it  had  been  commenced  to  the  place  where  it  now 
is.  If  this  captivating  American  Helen  had  continued  at  the 
Bend,  the  garrison  would  have  been  erected  there,  population, 
capital,  and  business  would  have  centered  there,  and  there 
would  have  been  the  Queen  City  of  the  West." 

Hardly  was  the  "Fort  Washington,"  as  it  was  called,  at 
Losantiville  completed  when  General  Harmar,  in  December, 
1789,  removed  his  head-quarters  from  Marietta  thither,  taking 
possession  of  the  fort  with  three  companies,  leaving  Major 
Denny  in  command  of  Fort  Harmar.  On  the  second  day  of 
January  thereafter  Governor  St.  Clair  arrived  at  Fort  Washing 
ton,  on  his  way  to  Fort  Steuben,  stopping  over  for  a  few  days. 
He  was  much  pleased  with  the  fort  and  the  settlement  adjoin 
ing  it,  so  he  at  once  resolved  to  remove  the  seat  of  government 
from  Marietta  to  Cincinnati.  He  issued  on  January  5th  a  proc 
lamation,  dividing  the  entire  territory  into  four  counties,  as  fol 
lows  :  All  that  portion  lying  east  of  the  Scioto  River  and  south 
of  the  treaty  line  was  called  Washington  county ;  that  part 
lying  between  the  Scioto  and  the  Big  Miami  rivers  was  called 
Hamilton  county ;  the  territory  between  the  Big  Miami  and 


WA  YNE>S  SCOUTS.  951 

Wabash  rivers  was  called  Knox  county,  and  the  part  west  of 
the  Wabash  to  the  Mississippi  was  called  St.  Clair  county.  At 
the  same  time  he  changed  the  name  "  Losantiville,"  into  "  Cin 
cinnati/' — which  name  appears  for  the  first  time  in  St.  Glair's 
proclamation  of  January  5,  1790. 

The  continued  influx  of  whites  into  the  territory  annoyed 
the  Indians  greatly.  They  resolved,  at  all  hazards,  to  repress 
these  inroads  upon  their  hunting-grounds.  Councils  were  held 
in  the  villages  on  the  Muskingum  and  the  upper  Miamis,  as 
well  as  at  Detroit;  and  the  most  threatening  and  highly  inflam 
matory  speeches  were  uttered  against  the  settlers,  whom  they 
agreed  to  drive  again  across  the  Ohio  River.  During  the  winter 
1789-1790  all  the  settlements  began  to  swarm  with  Indians 
around  them,  lurking  about  the  woods  and  fields,  killing  those 
that  dared  to  venture  without  the  reach  of  the  guns  of  the  forts 
and  block-houses. 

The  whites  were  by  no  means  at  ease  during  this  state  of 
affairs.  Scouts  were  engaged,  bold  and  daring  men,  to  watch 
every  movement  of  the  savages,  and  to  report  their  prepara 
tions.  As  early  as  the  year  1789,  General  Harmar  engaged  quite 
a  number  of  them,  of  which  the  brothers  Robert  and  William 
McClellan,  John  White,  and  the  brothers  Miller  were  the  most 
noted  and  skillful  adventurers.  Of  Robert  McClellan  and  White 
the  following  thrilling  incident  is  related  by  the  venerable  Gen 
eral  John  Sanderson,  of  Lancaster,  as  communicated  by  Rev.  J. 
B.  Finley  in  his  autobiography. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1790  the  block-house  and 
stockade  above  the  mouth  of  the  Hockhocking  River  was  a 
frontier  post  for  the  hardy  pioneers  of  the  North-western  Terri 
tory.  In  its  vicinity  nature  was  as  yet  undisturbed  in  its  pris 
tine  condition.  The  ax  of  the  woodsman  had  not  been  heard 
here,  nor  had  the  bosom  of  the  earth  been  ripped  open  by  the 
furrowing  plow  of  the  busy  husbandman.  A  primeval  forest 
stretched  itself  in  every  direction  for  miles  and  miles,  only 
interrupted  here  and  there  by  small  spots  of  green  and  flowing 


952  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

prairies,  waving  their  golden  bloom  in  the  silent  beauty  of 
nature.  One  of  the  most  luxuriant  of  these  prairies  of  the 
Hockhocking  valley  was  where  the  town  of  Lancaster  now 
stands.  Its  beauty,  fertility  of  the  soil,  and  picturesqueness 
of  scenery  attracted  even  the  savages,  who  built  here  one  of 
their  principal  villages.  Its  location  in  the  south-eastern  center 
of  what  is  now  the  State  of  Ohio,  well  advanced  both  towards 
the  settlements  at  Marietta  and  Cincinnati,  made  it  a  suitable 
place  for  the  concentration  of  the  Indian  warriors  in  an  attempt 
upon  either  of  these  colonies.  The  tribes  north  and  west  would 
meet  here  to  consult,  and  from  here  the  war-paths  led  forth  in 
different  directions. 

It  was  but  natural,  during  the  exciting  period  of  1789-90, 
when  the  aggressions  upon  their  soil  were  advancing  onward 
slowly,  but  firmly,  from  the  mouths  of  the  Muskingum  and  the 
Miamis,  threatening  the  eventual  complete  inundation  of  all 
the  territory  south  of  the  Lake  Erie,  that  this  place,  lying 
almost  equi-distant  from  both  threatening  localities,  should 
be  selected  as  the  place  of  rendezvous  of  the  Indians,  whose 
war-spirit  was  up  and  whose  tomahawks  had  been  unburied  for 
active  hostility.  Information  was  soon  received  at  the  garrison 
of  Fort  Harmar  that  the  Indians  were  gathering  for  the  purpose 
of  striking  a  blow  at  some  one  of  the  frontier  settlements ;  and 
to  meet  this  crisis,  the  commandant  dispatched  two  of  the  most 
trustworthy  and  best  skilled  spies  to  watch  their  movements, 
and  report  the  same.  These  two  men  were  Robert  McClellan 
and  John  White,  "  two  spirits  that  never  quailed  at  danger,  and 
as  unconquerable  as  the  Libyan  lion."  In  the  early  autumn 
of  1790  they  left  their  comrades  at  Marietta  and  moved  on 
through  the  thick  plum  and  hazel  bushes  with  the  noiseless 
tread  of  the  panther,  armed  with  their  unerring  and  trusty 
rifles.  Having  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Indian  village,  they 
climbed  the  prominence  now  known  as  -Mount  Pleasant,  whose 
western  termination  is  a  perpendicular  cliff  of  rocks,  several 
hundred  feet  in  height,  and  from  which  a  beautiful  view  is  had 


WA  YNE'S  SCO  UTS.  953 

of  the  entire  plain.  Here  our  spies  took  up  a  position  from 
which  they  could  observe  all  the  movements  of  the  Indians  in 
the  valley  below.  Every  day  added  new  accessions  of  war 
riors  to  the  company.  They  witnessed  their  exercises  of  horse- 
racing,  running  foot-races,  ball-playing,  jumping,  throwing  the 
tomahawk,  and  dancing — the  old  sachems  looking  on  with  their 
Indian  indifference,  the  squaws  engaged  in  their  usual  drudgery, 
and  the  children  in  their  playful  gambols.  The  arrival  of  each 
new  war  party  was  greeted  with  terrible  shouts,  which,  striking 
the  mural  face  of  Mount  Pleasant,  re-echoed  from  the  various 
indentations  of  the  surrounding  hills  in  a  thousand  reverbera 
tions,  as  if  a  million  fiends  were  gathered  at  a  universal  revelry. 
Terrific  as  these  yells  would  sound  in  the  ear  of  those  unac 
customed  to  Indian  war-festivities,  they  were  but  martial  music 
to  our  spies ;  strains,  which  awakened  their  watchfulness,  and 
newly  strung  their  courage  and  bravery.  From  their  early 
youth  they  had  been  accustomed  to  it,  having  been  bred  in  the 
frontiers.  They  were  well  practiced  in  all  the  subtilty,  craft, 
iind  cunning  of  the  Indian  warfare,  as  well  as  the  ferocity  and 
blood-thirsty  nature  of  the  savage  warriors,  and  consequently 
not  at  all  excited  at  the  scenes  seen  in  and  heard  from  the 
valley  at  their  feet. 

The  place  of  observation  selected  by  them  was  well  chosen; 
nor  did  they  neglect  to  efface  carefully  and  completely  all  traces 
of  their  presence.  On  several  occasions  small  parties  of  Indians 
would  ascend  Mount  Pleasant  from  the  eastern  side  for  the 
purpose  of  scouting  the  country  in  the  vicinity  of  their  camp 
ing-ground,  in  order  to  satisfy  themselves  that  they  were  not 
watched  or  surprised  by  their  enemy.  Then  the  spies  would 
seclude  themselves  in  the  deep  fissures  of  the  rocks  on  the 
west,  again  leaving  their  hiding-places  when  their  uninvited  and 
unwelcome  visitors  had  disappeared.  Besides  this,  their  place 
was  well-secured,  having  but  one  narrow  entrance  over  a  ridge, 
which  could  be  passed  by  only  one  person  at  a  time,  and  which 
was  in  complete  command  of  their  rifles.  They  were,  therefore, 


954  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

not  likely  to  be  ensnared  by  the  cunning  of  their  foes,  nor  to 
fall  victims  to  their  scalping-knives  and  tomahawks,  without  a 
desperate,  and  on  their  part,  advantageous  struggle. 

For  food  they  depended  on  jerked  venison  and  corn  bread, 
with  which  their  knapsacks  were  well  filled.  They  dared  not 
kindle  a  fire,  and  the  report  of  a  shot  from  one  of  their  rifles 
would  at  once  have  divulged  their  presence,  and  brought  upon 
them  the  entire  force  of  the  Indians.  For  drink  they  depended 
upon  some  rain-water  which  still  stood  in  the  hollows  of  some 
of  the  rocks ;  but,  after  a  short  period,  this  store  was  exhausted, 
and  they  were  thrown  upon  the  alternative  of  either  finding  a 
new  supply  or  abandoning  their  position.  There  was,  however^ 
the  river  flowing  at  the  foot  of  the  rock,  and  from  it  they 
resolved  to  procure  their  drink.  But  it  was  a  dangerous  under 
taking,  for  the  river  was  open  to  the  view  of  the  village,  and 
the  party  being  discovered  would  unquestionably  bring  upon 
him  the  savages,  with  the  unerring  shots  from  their  rifles  or  the 
fatal  arrow.  To  accomplish  this  most  hazardous  enterprise^ 
McClellan,  being  the  oldest,  resolved  to  make  the  attempt ;  and, 
with  his  trustworthy  rifle  in  his  hand,  and  their  two  canteens 
strung  across  his  shoulders,  he  cautiously  descended  by  a  cir 
cuitous  route  to  the  prairie,  skirting  the  hills  on  the  north,  and, 
under  cover  of  the  hazel  thickets,  he  reached  the  river,  and, 
turning  a  bold  point  of  the  hill,  he  found  a  beautiful  and  fresh 
spring  within  a  few  feet  of  the  river  bank.  He  filled  his  can 
teens,  and  returned  in  safety  to  his  companion.  It  was  now 
determined  to  have  a  fresh  supply  of  water  every  day,  and  this 
duty  was  performed  alternately.  But  "  the  jug,"  says  the  pro 
verb,  "  goes  to  the  well  until  it  breaks ;"  and  the  procuring  of 
their  water-supply  was  destined  one  day  to  end  their  obser 
vations.  This  episode  is  described  by  General  Sanderson,  as 
follows : 

"  On  one  of  these  occasions,  after  White  had  filled  his 
canteens,  he  sat  a  few  minutes  watching  the  limpid  element  as 
it  came  gurgling  out  of  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  when  the  light 


WAYNE'S  SCOUTS.  955 

sound  of  footsteps  caught  his  practiced  ear,  and  upon  turning 
around  he  saw  two  squaws  within  a  few  feet  of  him.  Upon, 
turning  the  jut  of  the  hill,  the  eldest  squaw  gave  one  of  those 
far-reaching  whoops  peculiar  to  Indians.  White  at  once  com 
prehended  his  perilous  situation.  If  the  alarm  should  reach  the 
camps  or  town,  he  and  his  companion  must  inevitably  perish. 
Self-preservation  compelled  him  to  inflict  a  noiseless  death  on 
the  squaws,  and  in  such  a  manner  as,  if  possible,  to  leave  no 
trace  behind.  Ever  rapid  in  thought  and  prompt  in  action,  he 
sprang  upon  his  victims  with  the  rapidity  and  power  of  the  lion, 
and,  grasping  the  throat  of  each,  sprang  into  the  river.  He 
thrust  the  head  of  the  eldest  under  the  water.  While  making 
strong  efforts  to  submerge  the  younger,  who,  however,  power 
fully  resisted  him,  and  during  the  short  struggle  with  this 
young  athlete,  to  his  astonishment,  she  addressed  him  in  his 
own  language,  though  in  almost  inarticulate  sounds.  Releasing 
his  hold,  she  informed  him  that  she  had  been  a  prisoner  for  ten 
years,  and  was  taken  from  below  Wheeling,  and  that  the  Indians 
had  killed  all  the  family,  and  that  her  brother  and  herself  were 
taken  prisoners,  but  he  succeeded  on  the  second  night  in  mak 
ing  his  escape.  During  this  narrative  White  had  drowned  the 
elder  squaw,  and  had  let  her  float  off  with  the  current,  where 
it  would  not,  probably,  be  found  out  soon.  He  now  directed 
the  girl  to  follow  him,  and,  with  his  usual  speed  and  energy, 
pushed  for  the  mount.  They  had  scarcely  gone  half-way  when 
they  heard  the  alarm-cry  some  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the 
stream.  It  was  supposed  some  party  of  Indians,  returning 
from  hunting,  had  struck  the  river  just  as  the  body  of  the 
squaw  floated  past.  White  and  the  girl  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  mount,  where  McClellan  had  been  no  indifferent  spectator 
to  the  sudden  commotion  among  the  Indians.  The  prairie 
party  of  warriors  were  seen  immediately  to  strike  off  in  every 
direction,  and  White  and  the  girl  had  scarcely  arrived  before 
a  party  of  some  twenty  warriors  reached  the  eastern  acclivity 
of  the  mount  and  were  cautiously  and  carefully  keeping  under 


956  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

cover.  Soon  the  spies  saw  their  swarthy  foes  as  they  glided 
from  tree  to  tree  and  rock  to  rock,  till  their  position  was  sur 
rounded,  except  on  the  western  perpendicular  side,  and  all  hope 
of  escape  was  cut  off.  In  this  perilous  condition,  nothing  was 
left  but  to  sell  their  lives  as  dearly  as  possible,  and  this  they 
resolved  to  do,  and  advised  the  girl  to  escape  to  the  Indians, 
and  tell  them  she  had  been  taken  prisoner.  She  said,  '  No ! 
death  to  me,  in  the  presence  of  my  own  people,  is  a  thousand 
times  sweeter  than  captivity  and  slavery.  Furnish  me  with 'a 
gun,  and  I  will  show  you  I  can  fight  as  well  as  die.  This 
place  I  leave  not.  Here  my  bones  shall  lie  bleaching  with 
yours,  and  should  either  of  you  escape,  you  will  carry  the 
tidings  of  my  death  to  my  few  relations.'  Remonstrance  proved 
fruitless.  The  two  spies  matured  their  plan  of  defense,  and 
vigorously  commenced  the  attack  from  the  front,  where,  from 
the  narrow  backbone  of  the  mount,  the  savages  had  to  advance 
in  single  file  and  without  any  covert.  Beyond  this  neck  the 
warriors  availed  themselves  of  the  rocks  and  trees  in  advanc 
ing,  but  in  passing  from  one  to  the  other  they  must  be  exposed 
for  a  short  time,  and  a  moment's  exposure  of  their  swarthy 
forms  was  enough  for  the  unerring  rifles  of  the  spies.  The 
Indians  being  entirely  ignorant  of  how  many  were  in  ambus 
cade,  made  them  the  more  cautious  how  they  advanced. 

"After  bravely  maintaining  the  fight  in  front  and  keeping 
the  enemy  in  check,  they  discovered  a  new  danger  threatening 
them.  The  arch  foe  now  made  evident  preparations  to  attack 
them  on  the  flank,  which  could  be  most  successfully  done  by 
reaching  an  isolated  rock  lying  in  one  of  the  ravines  on  the 
southern  hill-side.  This  rock  once  gained  by  the  Indians,  they 
could  bring  the  spies  under  point-blank  shot  of  the  rifle  without 
the  possibility  of  escape.  Our  brave  spies  saw  the  hopelessness 
of  their  situation,  which  nothing  could  avert  but  a  brave  com 
panion  and  an  unerring  shot.  These  they  had  not;  but  the 
brave  never  despair.  With  this  impending  fate  resting  upon 
them  they  continued  calm  and  calculating,  and  as  unwearied  as 


WA  YNE  'S  SCO  UTS.  957 

the  strongest  desire  of  life  and  the  resistance  of  a  numerous  foe 
could  produce.  Soon  McClellan  saw  a  tall  and  swarthy  figure 
preparing  to  spring  from  a  covert  so  near  to  the  fatal  rock  that 
a  bound  or  two  would  reach  it  and  all  hope  of  life  then  was 
gone.  He  felt  that  all  depended  on  one  single  advantageous 
shot;  and,  although  but  an  inch  or  two  of  the  warrior's  body 
was  exposed,  and  that  at  a  distance  of  eighty  or  a  hundred 
yards,  he  resolved  to  risk  all,  coolly  raised  his  rifle  to  his  face, 
and  shading  the  sight  with  his  hand,  he  drew  a  bead  so  sure 
that  he  felt  conscious  it  would  do  the  deed.  He  touched  the 
trigger  with  his  finger;  the  hammer  came  down,  but,  in  place  of 
striking  fire,  it  broke  his  flint  into  many  pieces ;  and,  although 
he  felt  that  the  Indian  must  reach  the  rock  before  he  could  ad 
just  another  flint,  he  proceeded  to  the  task  with  the  utmost 
composure.  Casting  his  eye  to  the  fearful  point  suddenly  he 
saw  the  warrior  stretching  every  muscle  for  the  leap ;  and  with 
the  agility  of  the  panther  he  made  the  spring,  but  instead  of 
reaching  the  rock,  he  gave  a  most  hideous  yell,  and  his  dark 
body  fell  and  rolled  down  the  steep  into  the  valley  below.  He 
had  evidently  received  a  death  shot  from  some  unknown  hand. 
A  hundred  voices  re-echoed  from  below  the  terrible  shout.  It 
was  evident  that  they  had  lost  a  favorite  warrior  as  well  as 
being  disappointed,  for  a  time,  of  the  most  important  movement. 
A  very  few  minutes  proved  that  the  advantage  gained  would  be 
of  short  duration ;  for  already  the  spies  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
tall,  swarthy  warrior,  cautiously  advancing  to  the  covert  so 
recently  occupied  by  his  fellow-companion.  Now,  too,  the  at 
tack  in  front  was  renewed  with  increased  fury,  so  as  to  require 
the  incessant  fire  of  both  spies  to  prevent  the  Indians  from 
gaining  the  eminence ;  and  in  a  short  time  McClellan  saw  a 
warrior  making  preparations  to  leap  on  the  fatal  rock.  The  leap 
was  made,  and  the  Indian  turning  a  somersault,  his  corpse  rolled 
down  the  hill  toward  his  former  companion.  Again  an  unknown 
agent  had  interposed  in  their  behalf.  This  second  sacrifice  cast 
dismay  into  the  ranks  of  the  assailants,  and  just  as  the  sun  was 


958  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

disappearing  behind  the  western  hills  the  foe  withdrew  for  a 
short  distance  to  devise  some  new  mode  of  attack.  This  respite 
came  most  seasonably  to  our  spies,  who  had  kept  their  ground 
and  bravely  maintained  the  unequal  fight  from  nearly  the  mid 
dle  of  the  day. 

"  Now,  for  the  first  time,  was  the  girl  missing ;  and  the  spies 
thought  that  through  terror  she  had  escaped  to  her  former  cap 
tors,  or  that  she  had  been  killed  during  the  fight;  but  they  were 
not  long  left  to  conjecture.  The  girl  was  seen  emerging  from 
behind  a  rock  and  coming  to  them  with  a  rifle  in  her  hand. 
During  the  heat  of  the  fight  she  saw  a  warrior  fall,  who  had 
advanced  some  distance  before  the  rest,  and,  while  some  of  them 
changed  their  position,  she  resolved  at  once,  live  or  die,  to  pos 
sess  herself  of  his  gun  and  ammunition ;  and  crouching  down 
beneath  the  underbrush,  she  crawled  to  the  place  and  succeeded 
in  her  enterprise.  Her  keen  and  watchful  eye  had  early  noticed 
the  fatal  rock,  and  hers  was  the  mysterious  hand  by  which  the 
two  warriors  fell ;  the  last  being  the  most  intrepid  and  blood 
thirsty  of  the  Shawnee  tribe,  and  the  leader  of  the  company 
which  killed  her  mother  and  sister,  and  took  her  and  her  brother 
prisoners. 

"Now  in  the  west  arose  dark  clouds,  which  soon  overspread 
the  whole  heavens,  and  the  elements  were  rent  with  the  peals 
of  thunder.  Darkness,  deep  and  gloomy,  shrouded  the  whole 
heavens ;  this  darkness  greatly  embarrassed  the  spies  in  their 
contemplated  night  escape,  supposing  that  they  might  readily 
lose  their  way,  and  accidentally  fall  on  their  enemy ;  but  a 
short  consultation  decided  the  plan.  It  was  agreed  that  the 
girl  should  go  foremost,  from  her  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
localities,  and  another  advantage  might  be  gained  in  case  they 
should  fall  in  with  any  of  the  parties  or  outposts — from  her 
knowledge  of  their  language  she  might  deceive  the  sentinels,  as 
the  sequel  proved ;  for  scarcely  had  they  descended  a  hundred 
yards,  when  a  low  whist  from  the  girl  warned  them  of  their 
danger.  The  spies  sunk  silently  to  the  ground,  where,  by  pre- 


WAYNE'S  SCOUTS.  959 

vious  engagement,  they  were  to  remain  till  the  signal  was  given 
by  the  girl  to  move  on.  Her  absence  for  the  space  of  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  began  to  excite  the  most  serious  apprehensions. 
Again  she  appeared,  and  told  them  she  had  succeeded  in  re 
moving  two  sentinels  to  a  short  distance,  who  were  directly  in 
their  route. 

"  The  descent  was  noiselessly  resumed,  and  the  spies  followed 
their  intrepid  leader  for  a  half  mile  in  the  most  profound  silence, 
when  the  barking  of  a  dog  at  a  short  distance  apprised  them  of 
new  danger.  The  almost  simultaneous  click  of  the  spies'  rifles 
was  heard  by  the  girl,  who  stated  that  they  were  now  in  the 
midst  of  the  Indian  camps,  and  their  lives  now  depended  on  the 
most  profound  silence  and  implicitly  following  her  footsteps.  A 
moment  afterward  the  girl  was  accosted  by  a  squaw  from  an 
opening  in  her  wigwam;  she  replied  in  the  Indian  language,  and 
without  stopping,  still  pressed  forward.  In  a  short  time  she 
stopped,  and  assured  the  spies  that  the  village  was  now  cleared, 
and  that  they  had  passed  the  greatest  danger.  She  knew  that 
every  leading  path  was  guarded  safely  by  the  Indians,  and  at 
once  resolved  to  adopt  the  bold  adventure  of  passing  through 
the  center  of  the  village  as  the  least  hazardous,  and  the  sequel 
proved  the  correctness  of  her  judgment.  They  now  steered  a 
course  for  the  Ohio  River,  and,  after  three  days'  travel,  arrived 
safely  at  the  block-house.  Their  escape  and  adventure  pre 
vented  the  Indians  from  their  contemplated  attack.  The  res 
cued  girl  proved  to  be  the  sister  of  the  intrepid  Corneal 
Washburn,  celebrated  in  the  history  of  Indian  warfare  and 
as  the  renowned  spy  of  Captain  Simon  Kenton's  bloody 
Kentuckians." 

After  their  failure  on  the  part  of  the  savages  in  their 
attempted  surprise  of  Fort  Harmar,  the  western  tribes  again 
withdrew  to  their  villages  on  the  Maumee  and  Auglaize  rivers. 
General  Harmar  now  resolved  to  punish  them  in  their  own  coun 
try.  He  advanced  cautiously  from  Fort  Washington  in  October, 
1790,  to  destroy  their  villages  on  the  Maumee.  Upon  reaching 


960  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  Indian  towns  which  lay  around  the  forks  of  this  river  (now 
Fort  Wayne,  Indiana),  he  began  to  destroy  the  Indian  fields 
and  huts  in  the  outskirts  of  their  camp,  whereby  his  troops 
became  so  much  divided,  that  they  were  separately  attacked 
and  routed  by  the  savages  under  their  war-chief  Little  Turtle. 
General  Harmar,  after  this  disaster,  thought  it  prudent  to  retire 
again  to  Fort  Washington.  He  had  instructions  for  the  erection 
of  a  fort  on  the  Maumee,  but  his  troops  after  the  defeat  became 
unreliable,  and,  as  the  supplies  were  short,  and  the  season  being 
too  far  advanced  to  bring  forward  others,  the  enterprise  was 
dropped.  General  Harmar,  the  next  year,  was  dismissed  from 
the  service. 

The  savages,  intoxicated  with  joy  over  the  defeat  of  their 
adversaries,  now  swarmed  all  over  the  country  and  around  the 
settlements,  striking  terror  into  the  hearts  of  even  the  hardiest 
of  the  pioneers.  A  cry  went  up  to  the  general  government, 
demanding  energetic  measures  in  the  premises,  Harmar's  dis 
astrous  defeat  having  demonstrated  the  necessity  of  imposing 
some  strong  check  upon  the  aggressions  of  the  northern  Indians ; 
and  new  measures  were  devised  for  the  attainment  of  that  end. 
Governor  St.  Clair  was  at  once  appointed  a  major-general  in  the 
service  of  Congress,  and  vested  with  the  power  of  a  commander- 
in-chief  of  the  United  States  forces.  Orders  Avere  given  for 
the  recruiting  of  a  large  and  effective  army,  and  besides,  the 
militia  of  Pennsylvania,  Virginia,  and  Kentucky  were  called 
into  action. 

While  this  powerful  army  was  organizing  and  concentrating 
at  Fort  Washington,  Colonels  Scott  and  Wilkinson  were  sent 
in  the  summer  of  1791  on  an  expedition  into  the  lower  Wabash 
country,  where  they  succeeded  in  destroying  several  Indian 
towns  and  fields,  which,  coupled  with  the  same  policy  pursued  by 
Harmar,  led  the  Indians,  stimulated  by  the  British,  to  the  belief 
that  the  government  policy  was  to  exterminate  the  race  and 
seize  their  lands.  In  this  belief  they  were  confirmed  when 
they  witnessed  the  extensive  preparations  making  by  St.  Clair 


WAYNE'S  SCOUTS.  961 

for  his  expedition.  Still,  flushed  with  their  success  achieved 
over  General  Harmar,  they  continued  to  devastate  the  settle 
ments  on  the  borders  of  the  territory  from  one  end  to  the  other, 
carrying  murder  and  pillage  everywhere,  even  to  the  very  walls 
of  the  strongly  garrisoned  Fort  Washington.  St.  Clair  used 
every  endeavor  to  entreat  them  to  a  peaceful  disposition.  He 
urged  them  to  take  part  in  a  council  at  Cincinnati,  so  that  the 
troubles  daily  augmenting  more  and  more  might  be  adjusted  in 
a  peaceable  manner. 

The  settlers,  however,  believing  that  the  meek  and  timid 
policy  of  the  government  was  the  very  cause  of  the  threatening 
situation,  became  highly  indignant  at  these  treaties  and  parleys. 
"While  the  governor  is  holding  peace  conferences,"  they  said, 
"  the  savages  are  destroying  our  homes  and  our  fields,  stealing  or 
killing  our  animals,  and  murdering  our  wives  and  children."  These 
complaints  on  the  part  of  the  whites  were  not  far  from  the  truth. 
"  On  the  evening  of  the  2d  [January,  1791],"  writes  Rufus  Put 
nam  to  the  President, "  between  sunset  and  daylight,  the  Indians 
surprised  a  new  settlement  of  our  people  at  a  place  on  the  Mus- 
kingum  called  the  Big  Bottom,  nearly  forty  miles  up  the  river, 
in  which  disaster  eleven  men,  one  woman,  and  two  children 
were  killed ;  three  men  are  missing,  and  four  others  made  their 
escape.  Thus,  sir,  the  war,  which  was  partially  waged  before 
the  campaign  of  last  year,  is,  in  all  probability,  become  general." 

Nor  were  the  hardy  pioneer  women  any  less  severe  in  their 
criticism  of  the  fatal  policy  pursued  by  the  authorities.  It 
was  chiefly  they  that  threatened  to  storm  Fort  Washington 
when  the  celebrated  ranger  Lewis  Wetzel  was  a  prisoner 
therein.  And  when  Wetzel  was  released  upon  a  habeas  corpus, 
they  escorted  him  in  procession  to  Columbia,  where  the  ladies 
arranged  a  banquet  and  ball  in  honor  of  the  liberation  of  the 
great  hunter,  "  who  had  killed  more  'Indians  than  any  other 
man."  Thus,  at  the  time  when  these  peace  councils  were  held, 
the  white  settlers  used  all  their  influence  to  compel  the  author 
ities  to  a  strong  policy  and  to  a  war  of  extermination.  Women 

54 


962  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

would  rush  into  the  council  meetings  and  complain  of  the  mur 
der  of  their  husbands  and  relatives,  crying  aloud  for  revenge, 
and  uttering  sometimes  threats  of  masculine  terseness,  inciting 
thereby  the  Indians  to  violence.  Inflamed  by  these  utterances, 
and  urged  on  by  jealousy  and  hatred,  what  else  could  be 
expected  but  that  the  Indians  would  not  only  continue,  but 
increase,  their  depredations  upon  the  frontier  settlements  ? 

Yet  some  of  the  Indian  chiefs  actually  desired  peace.  Even 
Joseph  Brant,  the  great  war-chief  of  the  Five  Nations,  advised  a 
general  peace,  "  by  all  means,  if  it  could  be  effected  upon  hon 
orable  and  liberal  terms."  On  the  other  hand,  the  western 
tribes,  doubtless  instigated  by  the  British  agents  and  under 
their  control,  urged  on  the  quarrel  about  to  burst  forth. 

At  last  the  numerous  appeals  reached  the  ear  of  the  general 
government,  as  we  have  seen,  and  preparations  were  made  for  a 
powerful  assault  upon  the  war-thirsty  tribes  of  the  west.  Gov 
ernor  St.  Clair,  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  upwards  of  three 
thousand  strong,  marched  against  them.  Early  on  the  morning 
of  the  4th  of  November,  1791,  the  advance  of  this  expedition, 
about  fourteen  hundred  strong,  was  surprised  in  its  camp  on  the 
banks  of  the  Wabash,  in  the  south-west  part  of  Mercer  county, 
Ohio,  and  entirely  dispersed,  with  a  loss  of  more  than  six  hun 
dred  men. 

This  aroused  Congress  to  a  different  policy.  The  command 
ing  officers  of  the  hitherto  fatal  expeditions  might  have  been 
good  generals,  and  undoubtedly  were,  in  a  combat  with  civilized 
armies,  but  they  were  entirely  unaccustomed  to  an  Indian  war 
fare.  How  General  Washington,  who  was  reared  to  this  class 
of  fighting  from  his  youth,  could  have  committed  the  fatal 
blunder  of  selecting  generals  devoid  of  training  in  the  peculiar 
duties  demanded  of  them,  is  quite  inexplicable.  The  lessons 
received  were,  however,  not  in  vain.  A  new  commander  was 
selected,  and  this  time  a  man,  who  had  fought  both  whites 
and  Indians,  who  possessed  not  only  unquestioned  courage,  but 
likewise  a  keen  conception  and  quick  resolve  in  his  actions,  the 


WA  YNE  'S  SCO  UTS.  963 

intrepid  hero  of  Stony  Point,  General  Anthony  Wayne.  This 
selection  was  made  despite  the  opposition  of,  or  as  Governor 
Lee  of  Virginia  puts  it,  "to  the  extreme  disgust  among,  all 
orders  in  the  Old  Dominion."  But  the  President  had  selected 
Wayne  not  hastily,  nor  through  partiality  or  influence,  and  no 
idle  words  affected  him. 

In  June,  1792,  Wayne  moved  westward  to  Pittsburgh,  and 
proceeded  to  organize  the  army,  which  was  to  be  the  ultimate 
arbitrator  between  the  Americans  and  the  Indian  confederation. 
Through  the  summer  of  1792  the  preparations  of  the  soldiers 
were  steadily  attended  to.  "Train  and  discipline  them  for  the 
service  they  are  meant  for,"  said  Washington,  "and  do  not 
spare  powder  and  lead,  so  the  men  be  made  marksmen."  In 
December,  1792,  the  forces,  now  recruited  and  trained,  were 
gathered  at  a  point  about  twenty-two  miles  below  Pittsburgh, 
on  the  Ohio,  in  a  camp  which  was  called  Legionville,  the  army 
itself  having  been  denominated  the  Legion  of  the  United  States. 

While  Wayne's  army  was  gathering  and  practicing  target- 
shooting,  the  peace  measures  of  the  United  States  were  pressed 
with  equal  perseverance.  In  the  first  place,  an  expedition  was 
sent  to  examine  the  field  of  the  late  disastrous  conflict.  This 
body  reached  the  place  of  their  destination  in  February,  1792, 
and  from  the  letter  of  Captain  Buntin  to  St.  Clair,  relative  to 
what  was  found  there,  we  take  the  following  passage :  "  In 
my  opinion,  those  unfortunate  men  who  fell  into  the  enemy's 
hands  with  life  were  used  with  the  greatest  torture — having 
their  limbs  torn  off;  and  the  women  have  been  treated  with 
the  most  indecent  cruelty,  having  stakes  as  thick  as  a  person's 
arm  drove  through  their  bodies."  Next  there  were  peace  com 
missioners  sent  to  the  various  tribes.  In  the  spring  of  that 
year  Colonel  Trueman  repaired  to  the  Miami  villages  with 
friendly  messages,  offering  reasonable  terms.  Other  peace  mes 
sengers  were  sent  to  the  Indians  on  the  lower  Wabash,  accom 
panied  by  the  Moravian  missionary,  John  Heckewelder,  to  effect 
a  friendly  adjudication  of  the  difficulties  with  the  tribes. 


964  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

On  the  part  of  the  Indians  these  peace-offerings  were  re 
ceived  with  a  diversity  of  opinions.  While  some  of  their  chiefs, 
among  them  the  Wyandot  war-chief  Little  Turtle,  were  urging 
the  acceptance  of  the  terms  offered,  others,  as  yet  intoxicated 
with  their  easy  victories  obtained  over  largely  superior  armies, 
were  unwilling  to  listen  to  any  argument  offered.  In  vain  did 
Little  Turtle  say  to  them  :  "  Brothers,  we  heretofore  had  op 
posed  to  us  chiefs  that  were  sleeping,  but  I  say  to  you,  the 
6  Great  Wind '  [the  name  given  by  the  Indians  to  General  Wayne] 
is  a  chief  who  never  sleeps."  They,  urged  on  by  the  British, 
who  secretly  promised  them  succor,  would  hear  of  no  terms 
whatsoever. 

General  Wayne's  "  Legion"  had  passed  the  winter  1792-3  at 
Legionville  until  the  last  of  April,  1793,  when  it  was  taken  down 
the  river  to  Cincinnati.  There  it  encamped  in  the  vicinity  of 
Fort  Washington,  on  a  high  plateau,  selected  for  that  purpose 
by  Wayne's  quartermaster-general,  Colonel  Hobson,  from  whom 
the  camp  received  the  name  of  "  Hobson's  Choice."  It  had 
been  urged  by  some  on  General  Wayne,  that  the  camping- 
ground  was  too  far  distant  from  Fort  Washington  and  the  town, 
it  being  located,  on  account  of  the  high  water  in  the  river,  in 
what  is  now  the  western  part  of  Cincinnati.  Wayne,  upon  in 
quiry  as  to  who  had  chosen  the  place,  learning  that  it  was  Colonel 
Habson,  said :  "  Then  it  is  Hobson's  choice,  and  we  must  take  it." 

After  encountering  many  obstacles  General  Wayne,  during 
the  summer  of  1793,  was  perfecting  the  discipline  of  his  army 
at  Hobson's  Choice.  Profiting  by  the  errors  of  his  predecessors, 
he  at  the  same  time  tried  to  acquaint  himself  with  every  thing 
pertaining  to  the  disposition  of  the  Indians,  their  location,  num 
ber,  chiefs,  and  all  other  matters  of  interest  to  a  commander 
of  an  invading  army  in  a  hostile  country.  He  knew  that  he 
had  a  bold,  vigilant,  and  dexterous  enemy  to  contend  with.  It 
became,  therefore,  indispensable  to  him  to  use  the  utmost  cau 
tion  in  his  movements  to  guard  against  surprise.  To  secure  his 
army  against  the  possibility  of  being  ambuscaded,  he  organized 


WA  YNE  'S  SCO  UTS.  965 

3,  body  of  spies  or  rangers,  selecting  for  it  the  best  woodsmen  the 
€amp  afforded.  This  corps  was  placed  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Ephraim  Kibby,  one  of  the  first  settlers  at  Columbia, 
who  had  distinguished  himself  as  a  bold  and  intrepid  soldier  in 
defending  that  infant  settlement.  The  corps  was  divided  into 
two  companies,  one  commanded  by  Kibby  in  person,  the  other 
by  Captain  William  Wells,  who  had  been  taken  a  prisoner  by 
the  Indians  when  quite  a  boy,  as  narrated  in  a  previous  chap 
ter,  and  had  grown  up  to  manhood  with  them,  and  consequently 
was  well  acquainted  with  all  their  wiles  and  stratagems. 

Of  Captain  Wells's,  birth  and  family  nothing  is  known.  He 
was  captured  at  the  age  of  twelve  years,  when  he  was  an  inmate 
of  the  family  of  Nathaniel  Pope  (the  grandfather  of  General 
Pope),  in  Kentucky.  The  Miamis,  who  had  taken  him,  finally 
adopted  Wells  into  the  tribe,  and  he  lived  to  manhood  among 
them.  His  Indian  name  was  "  Black  Snake."  He  became  quite 
an  influential  man  among  them,  and  married  a  sister  of  the  cel 
ebrated  chief  "  Little  Turtle."  He  fought  by  the  side  of  this 
chief  in  the  contests  with  Generals  Harmar  and  St.  Clair. 
"  Afterwards,"  writes  Hon.  J.  L.  Williams,  in  his  Historical 
Sketch  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  of  Fort  Wayne,  "in 
time  of  calm  reflection,  with  dim  memories  still  of  his  childhood 
home,  of  brothers  and  playmates,  he  seems  to  have  been  har 
assed  with  the  thought  that  among  the  slain  by  his  own  hand 
may  have  been  his  kindred.  The  approach  of  Wayne's  army 
in  1794,  stirred  anew  these  conflicting  emotions  based  upon 
indistinct  recollections  of  early  ties,  of  country  and  kindred  on 
the  one  hand,  and  existing  attachments  of  wife  and  children  on 
the  other.  He  resolved  to  make  his  history  known.  With  true 
Indian  characteristics,  the  secret  purpose  of  leaving  his  adopted 
nation  was,  according  to  reliable  tradition,  made  known  in  this 
manner :  Taking  with  him  the  war-chief  '  Little  Turtle '  to  a 
favorite  spot  on  the  banks  of  the  Maumee,  Wells  said  :  '  I  now 
leave  your  nation  for  my  own  people.  We  have  been  friends. 
We  are  friends  yet,  until  the  sun  reaches  a  certain  height/ 


966  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

which  he  indicated.  'From  that  time  we  are  enemies.  Then 
if  you  wish  to  kill  me,  you  may.  If  I  want  to  kill  you,  I  may.' 
At  the  appointed  hour,  crossing  the  river,  Captain  Wells  disap 
peared  in  the  forest,  taking  an  easterly  direction  to  strike  the 
trail  of  Wayne's  army.  Obtaining  an  interview  with  General 
Wayne,  he  became  ever  afterward  the  faithful  friend  of  the 
Americans." 

Next  to  Wells  in  importance  was  Robert  McClellan,  whose 
name  has  been  immortalized  by  Washington  Irving  in  his  graphic 
picture  of  "Astoria."  He  was  one  of  three  brothers,  William, 
Robert,  and  John  McClellan,  the  sons  of  one  of  the  pioneer 
farmers  of  Pennsylvania,  who  lived  at  the  time  of  the  Revolu 
tionary  war  in  that  part  of  Cumberland  County  which  now 
belongs  to  Franklin  County,  where  the  boys  were  schooled  in 
all  the  arts  of  woodcraft  and  inured  to  the  hardships  of  front 
ier  life.  As  soon  as  the  boys  had  obtained  a  sufficient  age, 
they  began  their  turbulent  careers  as  pack-horse  boys,  convey 
ing  salt  over  the  mountains.  At  the  opening  of  the  Indian 
conflict  in  the  west,  about  the  year  1790,  Robert  and  William 
engaged  as  scouts  or  rangers,  first  in  the  service  of  General 
Harmar,  and  next  in  that  of  Generals  St.  Clair  and  Wayne. 
"Robert  was  one  of  the  most  athletic  and  active  men  on  foot," 
writes  McDonald,  "  that  appeared  on  the  globe.  On  the  parade 
ground  at  Fort  Greenville,  where  the  ground  was  very  little 
inclined,  to  show  his  activity,  he  leaped  over  a  road  wagon  with 
the  cover  stretched  over;  the  wagon  and  bows  were  eight  and 
a  half  feet  high." 

Henry  Miller  and  a  younger  brother  named  Christopher 
(brothers  of  Joseph  and  John  Miller,  in  Kibby's  company),  had 
been  made  captives  by  the  Indians  when  quite  young,  and  were 
adopted  into  an  Indian  family.  Henry  lived  with  them  until 
he  attained  the  age  of  about  twenty-four  years.  Although  he 
had  become  quite  Indianized  and  had  adopted  all  their  man 
ners  and  customs,  he  now  began  thinking  of  returning  home  to 
his  family  and  relatives  among  the  whites.  His  thoughts  finally 


WAYNE'S  SCOUTS.  967 

grew  into  resolution.  He  communicated  his  intention  to  his 
brother  Christopher,  and  tried  with  all  endeavor  to  get  him  to 
join  in  the  flight,  but  in  vain.  Christopher  was  quite  a  child 
when  made  a  captive.  He  was  now  a  good  hunter,  an  expert 
woodsman,  and  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  the  true  type  of 
an  Indian  warrior.  Failing  to  induce  his  brother  to  join  him, 
Henry  set  off  alone  through  the  woods,  and  arrived  safe  among 
his  friends  in  Kentucky.  Captain  Wells  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  Millers  during  their  captivity,  and  knew  the  intrepid 
ity  of  Henry,  which  would  render  him  a  valuable  companion  in 
time  of  need ;  so,  meeting  him  among  Kibby's  scouts,  he  asked 
and  received  Miller's  transfer  into  his  company.  How  Henry 
Miller  found  his  brother  Christopher,  and  had  him  join  the 
company  of  Wayne's  scouts  commanded  by  Wells,  is  related  by 
McDonald,  as  follows  : 

"  The  head-quarters  of  the  army  being  at  Fort  Greenville, 
in  the  month  of  June,  1794,  General  Wayne  dispatched  Captain 
Wells  and  his  company  with  orders  to  bring  into  camp  an  Indian 
as  a  prisoner,  in  order  that  he  might  interrogate  him  as  to  the 
future  intentions  of  the  enemy.  Captain  Wells  proceeded  with 
cautious  steps  toward  the  Indian  country.  He  crossed  the  river 
St.  Mary,  and  thence  to  the  river  Auglaize,  without  meeting 
any  straggling  party  of  Indians.  In  passing  up  the  Auglaize 
they  discovered  a  smoke ;  they  then  dismounted,  tied  their 
horses,  and  proceeded  cautiously  to  reconnoiter  the  enemy. 
They  found  three  Indians  campod  on  a  high,  open  piece  of 
ground,  clear  of  brush  and  underwood.  As  it  was  open  woods, 
they  found  it  would  be  difficult  to  approach  the  camp  without 
being  discovered.  Whilst  they  were  reconnoitering  they  saw 
not  very  distant  from  the  camp  a  tree  which  had  lately  fallen. 
They  returned  and  went  round  the  camp  so  as  to  get  the  top 
of  the  fallen  tree  between  them  and  the  Indians.  The  tree-top 
being  full  of  leaves,  would  serve  as  a  shelter  to  screen  them 
from  observation.  They  went  forward  upon  their  hands  and 
knees,  with  the  noiseless  movement  of  the  cat,  until  they 


968  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

reached  the  tree-top.  They  were  now  within  seventy  or  eighty 
yards  of  the  camp.  The  Indians  were  sitting  or  standing  about 
the  fire,  roasting  their  venison,  laughing  and  making  other  merry 
antics,  little  dreaming  that  death  was  about  stealing  a  march 
upon  them. 

"Arrived  at  the  fallen  tree,  their  purpose  of  attack  was  soon 
settled;  they  determined  to  kill  two  of  the  enemy  and  make 
the  third  prisoner.  McClellan,  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  was 
almost  as  swift  as  a  deer  of  the  forest,  was  to  catch  the  Indian, 
whilst  to  Wells  and  Miller  was  confided  the  duty  of  shooting 
the  other  two.  One  of  them  was  to  shoot  the  one  on  the  right, 
the  other  the  one  on  the  left.  Their  rifles  were  in  prime  order, 
the  muzzles  of  their  guns  were  placed  on  the  log  of  the  fallen 
tree,  the  sights  were  aimed  for  the  Indians'  hearts — whizz  went 
the  balls,  and  both  Indians  fell.  Before  the  smoke  of  the  burnt 
powder  had  risen  six  feet,  McClellan  was  running  at  full  stretch, 
with  tomahawk  in  hand,  for  the  Indian.  The  Indian  bounded 
off  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  and  made  down  the  river ;  but  by 
continuing  in  that  direction  he  discovered  that  McClellan  would 
head  him.  He  turned  his  course  and  made  for  the  river.  The 
river  here  had  a  bluff  bank  about  twenty  feet  high.  When  he 
came  to  the  bank  he  sprang  down  into  the  river,  the  bottom  of 
which  was  a  soft  mud,  into  which  he  sunk  to  the  middle.  While 
he  was  endeavoring  to  extricate  himself  out  of  the  mud,  Mc 
Clellan  came  to  the  top  of  the  high  bank,  and,  without  hesita 
tion,  sprang  upon  him  as  he  was  wallowing  in  the  mire.  The 
Indian  drew  his  knife — McClellan  raised  his  tomahawk — told 
him  to  throw  down  his  knife,  or  he  would  kill  him  instantly. 
He  threw  down  his  knife  and  surrendered  without  any  further 
effort  at  resistance. 

"  By  the  time  the  scuffle  had  ceased  in  the  mire,  Wells  and 
his  companions  came  to  the  bank  and  discovered  McClellan  and 
the  Indian  quietly  sticking  in  the  mire.  As  their  prisoner  was 
now  secure,  they  did  not  think  it  prudent  to  take  the  fearful 
leap  the  others  had  done.  They  selected  a  place  where  the 


W A  YNE  '8  SCO  UTS.  969 

bank  was  less  precipitous,  went  down  and  dragged  the  captive 
out  of  the  mud  and  tied  him.  He  was  very  sulky,  and  refused 
to  speak  either  Indian  or  English.  Some  one  of  the  party  went 
back  for  their  horses,  whilst  the  others  washed  the  mud  and 
paint  from  the  prisoner.  When  washed,  he  turned  out  to  be  a 
white  man,  but  'still  refused  to  speak  or  give  any  account  of 
himself.  The  party  scalped  the  two  Indians  whom  they  had 
shot,  and  then  set  off  with  their  prisoner  for  head-quarters. 
Whilst  on  their  return  to  Fort  Greenville,  Henry  Miller  began 
to  admit  the  idea  that  it  was  possible  their  prisoner  was  his 
brother'  Christopher,  whom  he  had  left  with  the  Indians  some 
years  previous.  Under  this  impression  he  rode  alongside  of 
him,  and  called  him  by  his  Indian  name.  At  the  sound  of  his 
name  he  started  and  stared  around,  and  eagerly  inquired  how 
he  came  to  know  his  name.  The  mystery  was  soon  explained — 
their  prisoner  was  indeed  Christopher  Miller. 

"  Captain  Wells  arrived  safely  with  their  prisoner  at  Fort 
Greenville.  He  was  placed  in  the  guard-house,  where  General 
Wayne  frequently  interrogated  him  as  to  what  he  knew  of  the 
future  intentions  of  the  Indians.  Captain  Wells  and  Henry 
Miller  were  almost  constantly  with  Christopher  in  the  guard 
house,  urging  him  to  leave  off  the  thought  of  living  longer  with 
Indians,  and  to  join  his  relatives  among  the  whites.  Chris 
topher  for  some  time  was  reserved  and  sulky,  but  at  length 
became  more  cheerful,  and  agreed,  if  they  would  release  him 
from  confinement,  that  he  would  remain  with  the  whites.  Cap 
tain  Wells  and  Henry  Miller  solicited  General  Wayne  for  Chris 
topher's  liberty.  General  Wayne  could  scarcely  deny  such 
pleaders  any  request  they  could  make,  and,  without  hesitation, 
ordered  Christopher  Miller  to  be  set  at  liberty,  remarking  that 
should  he  deceive  them  and  return  to  the  enemy  they  would 
be  but  one  the  stronger.  Christopher  was  set  at  liberty,  and 
appeared  pleased  with  his  change  of  situation.  He  joined  the 
company  of  Captain  Wells,  and  with  his  brothers  fought  bravely 
against  the  Indians  during  the  continuance  of  the  war." 


970  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

On  the  7th  of  October,  1793,  Wayne's  army  left  their 
camping-ground  at  Hobson's  Choice,  and  removed  to  Fort 
Greenville,  which,  under  Wayne's  direction,  was  strongly  forti 
fied.  Here  they  went  into  winter-quarters,  having  been  suffi 
ciently  provisioned  to  that  end.  Nothing  particular  occurred 
here,  excepting  a  skirmish  had  with  a  party  of  Indians,  who 
made  an  attack  upon  some  soldiers  conveying  a  train  of  sup 
plies.  The  Indians  were,  however,  easily  repulsed,  with  some 
loss  on  both  sides. 

During  the  next  Spring  negotiations  were  again  opened, 
with  no  perceptible  change  in  the  situation.  General  Wayne 
then  pushed  his  advance  further  into  the  Indian  country  to  the 
place  of  St.  Glair's  defeat,  where  he  erected  a  work  of  defense, 
which  was  called  Fort  Recovery,  signifying  that  they  now  had 
again  recovered  the  heretofore  lost  ground.  The  place  was  at 
once  strongly  fortified  and  well  provisioned,  and  made  the  basis 
of  future  operations.  Wayne  was  now  steadily  engaged  in  pre 
paring  every  thing  for  a  sure  blow  when  the  time  came,  and,  by 
means  of  his  several  spies,  kept  himself  well  informed  of  the 
plans  and  movements  of  the  savages.  All  his  information 
showed  that  the  Indians  relied  upon  British  assistance,  which 
faith  still  animated  the  doomed  race.  Early  in  July  Captain 
Wells  and  his  scouts  were  ordered  to  bring  in  new  prisoners. 
They  pushed  through  the  country,  always  dressed  and  painted 
in  Indian  style,  crossing  the  River  St.  Mary,  and  then  passed 
into  the  country  near  to  the  Auglaize  River,  where  they  met  a 
single  Indian,  and  called  him  to  surrender.  The  man,  notwith 
standing  the  whites  were  six  to  one,  refused  to  surrender,  and 
leveled  his  rifle  as  the  whites  neared  him  on  horseback,  fired, 
but  missed  his  mark,  whereupon  he  took  to  his  heels  to  effect 
his  escape.  He  gained  upon  his  pursuers,  on  account  of  the 
thick  underbrush  of  the  country,  when  McClellan  and  Christo 
pher  Miller  dismounted.  McClellan  soon  overhauled  him.  The 
Indian,  finding  himself  overtaken  by  his  pursuers,  turned 
around  and  made  a  blow  at  McClellan  with  his  rifle,  which  was 


WAYNE9 S  SCOUTS.  971 

parried.  As  the  intention  was  to  take  the  Indian  alive, 
McClellan  kept  him  at  bay  until  Christopher  Miller  came  up, 
when  they  closed  in  upon  him  and  made  him  a  prisoner  with 
out  receiving  an  injury.  Their  prisoner  was  reputed  to  be  a 
Pottawattomie  chief,  whose  courage  and  prowess  were  scarcely 
equaled.  As  Christopher  Miller  had  performed  his  part  on 
this  occasion  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  the  brave  spirits  with 
whom  he  acted,  he  had,  as  he  merited,  their  entire  confidence. 
This  confidence  was  soon  extended  to  head-quarters,  and  on 
August  13,  1794,  General  Wayne  selected  him  as  a  special 
messenger  to  the  Indians,  once  more  offering  terms  of  friend 
ship.  Miller  returned  with  evasive  and  dilatory  answers. 

Unwilling  to  waste  time,  the  troops  moved  forward  to 
within  about  forty  miles  of  the  Grand  Glaize,  and,  being  now 
near  the  long-looked-for  foe,  began  to  throw  up  some  light  works, 
which  they  called  Fort  Deposit,  wherein  to  place  the  heavy 
baggage  during  the  expected  battle.  General  Wayne,  again 
wishing  to  be  informed  of  the  intentions  of  the  enemy,  sent 
out  Captain  Wells,  with  four  men,  to  bring  in  some  prisoners. 
The  party  consisted  of  Wells,  Henry  Miller,  McClellan,  May, 
and  Mahaffy.  The  distance  from  Fort  Defiance  to  the  British 
fort  at  the  mouth  of  the  Maumee  River  was  only  forty-five 
miles,  and  they  would  not  have  to  travel  far  before  they  would 
find  Indians.  As  their  object  was  to  bring  a  prisoner,  it  be 
came  necessary  for  them  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  large  par 
ties,  and  endeavor  to  fall  in  with  some  stragglers,  who  might 
be  easily  subdued  and  captured.  % 

Wells  and  his  party  went  down  the  Maumee  River  until 
they  were  only  about  two  miles  above  the  British  fort,  then 
called  Fort  Campbell.  On  the  left  bank  of  the  river  was  an 
Indian  village.  Wells  and  his  party  rode  into  the  village  as  if 
they  had  just  come  from  the  British  fort.  Being  dressed  and 
painted  completely  in  Indian  style,  they  rode  through  the  vil 
lage,  stopping  now  and  then  to  talk  to  some  Indians  in  their 
own  language.  They  created  no  suspicion  whatever,  under  the 


972  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

belief  that  they  were  Indians  from  the  distance,  that  had  come 
to  take  part  in  the  battle  which  all  knew  was  imminent.  As 
auxiliary  warriors,  they  were  welcome  to  them.  After  they 
had  passed  the  village  some  distance,  they  fell  in  with  an 
Indian  man  and  woman  on  horseback,  who  were  returning  to 
the  town  from  a  hunting  party.  These  were  both  made  cap 
tives  without  resistance,  and  then  the  party  set  off  for  Fort 
Defiance  with  their  prisoners. 

As  they  were  rapidly  proceeding  up  the  Maumee  River,  a 
little  after  dark,  they  came  near  a  large  encampment  of  Indians, 
who  were  merrily  amusing  themselves  around  their  camp-fires. 
While  they  passed  around  the  camp  with  their  prisoners,  they 
ordered  them  to  be  silent,  under  pain  of  instant  death.  After 
they  got  about  half  a  mile  above  the  camp,  they  halted  for  a 
consultation,  when  it  was  proposed  to  have  some  fun  with  the 
savages,  and  give  them  a  volley,  in  which  each  should  kill  his 
Indian.  They  deliberately  got  down,  gagged  and  fastened  their 
prisoners  to  trees,  rode  boldly  into  the  Indian  encampment,  and 
halted,  with  their  rifles  lying  across  the  pummels  of  their  sad 
dles.  The  Indians  were  surprised  at  their  nightly  visitors,  who 
asked  of  them  when  last  they  had  heard  of  General  Wayne 
and  the  movements  of  his  army,  how  soon  and  where  it  was 
expected  the  battle  would  be  fought.  The  Indians  who  gath 
ered  around  Wells  and  his  daring  comrades  were  very  commu 
nicative,  answering  all  their  interrogatories,  without  suspecting 
any  deceptive  movements  on  the  part  of  their  strange  visitors, 
who,  as  they  thought,  belonged  to  some  of  the  numerous  tribes 
that  had  gathered  to  take  part  in  the  conflict  with  the  whites. 
Their  appearance  at  length  aroused  the  suspicion  of  an  Indian, 
who  was  sitting  some  distance  from  them,  and  who  remarked, 
in  an  undertone,  that  he  had  his  doubts  about  the  strangers, 
and  that  he  believed  their  visit  to  mean  mischief.  Wells,  how 
ever,  overheard  these  remarks,  and  at  once  gave  the  precon 
certed  signal,  when  each  one  fired  his  rifle  into  the  body  of  an 
Indian,  and  then  set  spurs  to  their  horses,  dashing  off  into  the 


WAYNE'S  SCOUTS.  97S 

darkness.  The  Indian  who  had  uttered  his  suspicion  about 
them  and  several  others,  at  once  arose,  grasping  their  rifles, 
and  levelling  them  at  Wells  and  his  party,  who  just  then  gal 
loped  away,  and  for  greater  security  laid  their  breasts  upon  the 
horses'  necks,  so  as  to  lessen  the  mark  for  the  savages  to  fire  at. 
They,  however,  were  not  yet  out  of  the  light  of  the  camp-fire 
when  the  Indians  fired  a  volley  after  them,  wounding  McClel- 
lan  and  Captain  Wells,  hitting  the  first  under  the  shoulder-blade, 
so  that  the  ball  came  out  at  the  top  of  the  arm,  and  the  latter 
was  shot  through  the  arm  on  which  he  carried  his  rifle,  the  arm 
being  broken,  so  that  his  trusty  weapon  fell  to  the  ground.  On 
their  retreat  they  were  immediately  followed  by  some  of  the 
savages,  who  had  at  once,  mounted  their  horses  for  pursuit.  While 
the  scouts  were  crossing  the  river,  May's  horse  slipped  on  a 
smooth  rock  and  fell,  and  before  May  could  recover  himself, 
the  Indians  came  upon  him  and  took  him  prisoner.  They  knew 
him  well,  as  he  had  before  been  among  them,  when  he  was  sent 
by  General  Wayne  to  inquire  after  Colonel  Trueman.  At  that 
time  he  had  pretended  to  desert  to  the  Indians,  riding  into  their 
camp,  where  he  remained  some  time,  and  was  held  as  a  prisoner, 
but  finally  had  effected  his  escape.  This  time,  however,  his 
career  was  irretrievably  destined  to  end.  The  Indians  took 
him  to  the  British  fort,  and  the  next  day  tied  him  to  a  tree, 
made  his  breast  a  target,  and  riddled  his  body  with  bullets,  thus 
ending  the  life  of  one  of  the  bravest  rangers  of  the  west. 

The  others,  after  having  performed  this  act  of  wanton  super 
erogation,  rode  at  full  speed  to  the  place  where  they  had  left 
their  captives,  untied  them,  mounted  them  on  the  front  of  their 
horses,  and  set  off  for  Fort  Defiance.  Captain  Wells  and  Mc- 
Clellan  were  severely  wounded,  and  the  distance  to  Fort  Defi 
ance  being  about  thirty  miles,  it  was  indeed  a  road  of  suffering 
before  they  could  rest  or  receive  the  aid  of  a  surgeon.  As  their 
march  would  be  slow  and  painful,  Mahaffy  was  dispatched  at  full 
speed  to  the  fort  for  a  guard  and  a  surgeon.  As  soon  as  the 
messenger  arrived  with  tidings  of  the  wounds  and  the  perilous 


974  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

situation  of  the  heroic  spies,  general  sympathy  was  manifested 
by  all.  General  Wayne's  feeling  for  the  suffering  soldiers  was, 
at  all  times,  quick  and  sensitive ;  and  his  solicitude  became 
intense  when  he  learned  the  sufferings  and  perils  of  his  confi 
dential  band.  Without  a  moment's  delay  a  company  of  dra 
goons  was  dispatched  with  a  surgeon,  to  meet,  assist,  and  guard 
these  brave  fellows  to  head-quarters,  where  they  safely  arrived 
and  were  healed  of  their  wounds. 

The  next  day  the  army  moved  from  Fort  Defiance  down  the 
Maumee,  and,  at  a  place  known  as  "  the  Fallen  Timbers  " — a  tor 
nado  having  broken  down  a  streak  of  the  forest — General 
Wayne  inflicted  one  of  the  most  severe  punishments  upon  the 
Indians  they  had  ever  received,  and  which  broke  their  power  in 
the  Northwestern  Territory  forever.  It  was,  indeed,  a  brilliant 
victory  won,  and  to  the  spies  of  Wayne's  army  belongs  a  large 
portion  of  the  credit  due  to  the  heroic  body  that  achieved  it. 
This  little  band  of  rangers  performed  more  real  service  during 
the  campaign  than  any  other  corps  of  equal  numbers.  "  I  have 
no  doubt,"  writes  McDonald,  "  that  Captain  Wells  and  the  few 
men  he  commanded,  brought  in  not  less  than  twenty  prisoners 
and  killed  as  many  more." 

After  the  treaty  of  Greenville  (1795)  and  the  establishment 
of  peace,  Captain  Wells  was  joined  by  his  Indian  wife  and 
family,  and,  as  Brice  in  his  "History  of  Fort  Wayne"  writes, 
"  settled  at  the  '  Old  Orchard,'  a  short  distance  from  the  conflu 
ence  of  the  St.  Mary  and  St.  Joseph,  on  the  banks  of  a  small 
stream  there,  afterward  called  '  Spy  Run,'  and  which  still  bears 
that  name.  The  government  subsequently  granted  him  a  pre 
emption  of  some  three  hundred  and  twenty  acres  of  land,  includ 
ing  his  improvement,  the  Old  Orchard,  etc.  Wells  afterward  also 
became,  by  appointment  of  the  government,  Indian  agent  at  Fort 
Wayne,  in  which  capacity  he  served  several  years." 

The  following  account  is  given  of  his  tragic  end  :  "  In  the 
War  of  1812  Captain  Wells  was  in  command  at  Fort  Wayne. 
When  he  heard  of  General  Hull's  orders  for  the  evacuation  of 


WA  YNE  >S  SCO  UTS.  975 

Fort  Dearborn  (now  Chicago),  he  made  a  rapid  march  to  re- 
enforce  Captain  Heald,  and  to  assist  in  defending  the  fort,  or 
prevent  his  exposure  to  certain  destruction  by  an  attempt  to 
reach  the  head  of  the  Maumee.  But  he  was  too  late.  All 
means  for  maintaining  a  siege  had  been  destroyed  a  few  hours 
before,  and  every  preparation  had  been  made  to  leave  the  post 
next  day.  On  the  morning  of  the  15th  of  August  the  little 
company  of  Captain  Wells  and  his  Miamis  evacuated  the  fort 
and  moved  along  the  shore  till  they  came  to  Sand  Hills,  when 
they  were  attacked  by  five  hundred  cowardly  and  treacher 
ous  Pottawattomies.  That  conflict  was  short,  desperate,  and 
bloody.  Two- thirds  of  the  whites  were  slain  or  wounded,  and 
all  the  horses,  provisions,  and  baggage  lost.  Only  twenty-eight 
strong  men  remained  to  brave  the  fury  of  about  five  hundred 
Indians,  who  had  lost  but  fifteen  in  the  conflict.  Captain 
Wells  displayed  the  greatest  coolness  and  gallantry.  He  was 
by  the  side  of  his  niece  (Mrs.  Captain  Heald),  when  the  con 
flict  began.  '  We  have  not  the  slightest  chance  for  life,'  he  said, 
6  and  we  must  part  to  meet  no  more  in  this  world — God  bless 
you/  With  these  words  he  dashed  forward  with  the  rest.  In 
the  midst  of  the  fight  he  saw  a  young  warrior,  painted  like  a 
demon,  climb  into  a  wagon  in  which  were  twelve  children  of 
the  white  people,  and  tomahawk  them  all.  Forgetting  his  own 
immediate  danger,  Wells  exclaimed,  '  If  that  is  their  game, 
butchering  women  and  children,  I'll  kill  too/  He  instantly 
dashed  toward  the  Indian  camp,  where  they  Had  left  their 
squaws  and  little  ones,  hotly  pursued  by  swift-footed  young 
warriors,  who  sent  many  a  rifle-ball  after  him.  He  lay  close  to 
his  horse's  neck,  and  turned  and  fired  occasionally  upon  his  pur 
suers.  When  he  had  got  almost  beyond  the  range  of  their  rifles, 
a  ball  killed  his  horse  and  wounded  himself  severely  in  the  leg. 
The  young  savages  rushed  forward  with  a  demoniac  yell  to 
make  him  a  prisoner  and  reserve  him  for  torture,  for  he  was  to 
them  an  arch-offender.  His  friends,  Win-ne-meg  and  Wau-bau- 
see,  vainly  attempted  to  save  him  from  his  fate.  He  knew  the 


976  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

temper  and  the  practices  of  the  savages  well  and  resolved  not 
to  be  made  a  captive.  He  blackened  his  face  with  wetted  pow 
der,  and  taunted  them  with  the  most  insulting  epithets  to  pro 
voke  them  to  kill  him  instantly.  At  length  he  called  one  of  the 
fiery  young  warriors  Per-so-tum  (a  squaw),  which  so  enraged 
him  that  he  killed  Wells  instantly  with  his  tomahawk,  jumped 
upon  his  body,  cut  out  his  heart,  and  ate  a  portion  of  the  warm 
and  half-palpitating  morsel  with  savage  delight." 

Robert  McClellan,  after  the  peace  of  Greenville,  settled  on 
the  Ohio  River,  near  its  mouth,  where  he  erected  quite  a  num 
ber  of  log-houses  and  acted  as  a  trader  until  the  year  1806. 
After  that  he  associated  with  Ramsay  Cook,  an  adventurous 
young  Scotchman,  in  a  trading  business  with  the  Indians  on  the 
Missouri  River,  which  partnership  lasted  until  the  year  1810, 
when  McClellan  continued  the  trading  upon  his  own  account. 
In  1811  he  joined  the  celebrated  Wilson  P.  Hunt,  the  com 
mander  of  Astor's  American  Fur  Company,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Nodowa  River,  and  finding  his  old  friend  Crook  there, 
he  joined  the  company  upon  its  expedition  to  the  far-distant 
Northwest.  He  died  after  an  adventurous  life  in  the  summer 
of  1814  at  Cape  Girardeau,  Missouri,  where  he  lies  buried. 
His  brother  William,  after  manifold  pursuits,  settled  in  Butler 
County,  Ohio,  where  he  died  in  the  autumn  of  1827.  The 
brothers  Miller  (Henry  and  Christopher),  were  likewise  in  the 
employ  of  the  "Astor  American  Fur  Company,"  and  some  of 
their  after-adventures,  like  those  of  Robert  McClellan,  are  re 
lated  by  Washington  Irving  in  his  romantic  "Astoria." 

The  battle  of  the  "  Fallen  Timbers,"  that  had  so  recklessly 
been  fought  and  lost  by  the  Indians,  urged  on  by  their  haughty 
chief  "  Blue  Jacket,"  against  the  serious  advice  of  "  Little  Tur 
tle,"  ended  the  power  of  the  savages  in  what  is  now  the  State 
of  Ohio,  and  the  southern  part  of  the  rest  of  the  Territory ; 
and  the  treaty  of  Greenville,  in  1795,  left  them  politically  in  a 
scattered  condition.  While  the  Six  Nations  made  their  princi 
pal  home  in  Canada,  retaining  but  few  small  reservations  in  the 


WA  YNE  'S  SCO  UTS.  977 

dominions  of  the  United  States,  the  most  warlike  tribes  of  the 
west  moved  toward  what  is  now  the  northern  part  of  the  States 
of  Indiana  and  Illinois  and  into  the  later  Territories  of  Mich 
igan  and  Wisconsin,  where  they  established  new  hunting- 
grounds.  Some  tribes,  it  is  true,  remained  in  the  southern 
portion  of  the  Northwestern  Territory,  but  these,  for,  the  most 
part,  were  peaceably  disposed. 

Another  result  of  the  victory  of  General  Wayne  was  the 
evacuation  by  the  British  of  the  forts  still  occupied  by  them 
within  the  boundaries  of  the  United  States,  such  as  Detroit,  the 
Maumee  Fort,  and  others.  Thereby  the  entire  territory  ceded 
in  the  treaty  of  1783  came,  for  the  first  time,  into  the  full  pos 
session  of  the  American  government.  And  now,  relying  on 
themselves,  and  relieved  from  British  intrigues,  the  American 
people  earnestly  began  the  occupation  of  the  lands  of  their  own 
as  rapidly  as  the  influx  of  the  hardy  pioneers  would  permit. 

As  the  population  of  the  Territory  increased  new  settle 
ments  were  formed,  and  the  governor  proceeded,  from  time  to 
time,  as  the  convenience  of  the  inhabitants  required,  to  lay  out 
and  organize  other  counties,  under  the  power  delegated  by  the 
ordinance  of  1787;  in  each s  of  which  courts  of  common  pleas 
and  general  quarter-sessions  of  the  peace,  vested  with  civil  and 
criminal  jurisdiction,  were  established.  The  general  court  con 
sisted  of  three  judges,  appointed  by  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  with  the  advice  and  consent  of  the  Senate.  It  was  the 
highest  judicial  tribunal  in  the  Territory,  and  was  vested  with 
original  and  appellate  jurisdiction  in  all  civil  and  criminal,  and 
of  capital  cases ;  and  on  questions  of  divorce  and  alimony  its 
jurisdiction  was  exclusive. 

Up  to  the  year  1797  there  were  but  five  counties  in  the 
Territory  :  Washington,  with  its  seat  of  justice  at  Marietta ; 
Hamilton,  with  Cincinnati  as  its  capital  city;  Knox,  with  Yin- 
cennes  on  the  Wabash ;  St.  Clair  (now  Illinois),  with  Kaskas- 
kia  near  the  Mississippi ;  and  the  new  county  of  Wayne  (organ 
ized  1796),  with  Detroit  as  the  county  seat.  A  glance  on  the 

55 


978  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

map  will  at  once  convey  an  idea  of  the  relative  positions  of 
the  seats  of  justice  of  the  different  counties,  as  they  were  at 
that  time,  separated  from  each  other  by  extensive  tracts  of 
uninhabited  wilderness,  stretching  from  each  other  a  hundrdd 
and  fifty  to  two  hundred  miles,  without  roads,  bridges,  or  ferries. 
According  to  our  present  views  of  communication,  it  would  be 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  legal  business  of  each  county 
was  done  exclusively  by  those  professional  men  residing  at  its 
seat  of  justice.  That,  however,  was  not  the  case.  The  judges, 
as  well  as  the  lawyers,  and  frequently  their  clients  and  wit 
nesses,  had  to  travel  from  the  most  extreme  settlements  of  the 
Territory  to  where  the  court  trying  their  cases  was  held. 

The  journeys  of  the  court  and  bar  to  those  remote  places, 
through  a  country  in  its  primitive  state,  were  unavoidably 
attended  with  fatigue  and  exposure.  They  generally  traveled 
in  larger  or  smaller  companies,  and  with  pack-horses  to  trans 
port  such  necessaries  as  their  own  horses  could  not  conveniently 
carry,  because  no  dependence  could  be  placed  on  obtaining  sup 
plies  on  the  route ;  although  they  frequently  passed  through 
Indian  camps  and  villages,  it  was  not  safe  to  rely  on  them  for 
assistance.  Occasionally  small  quantities  of  corn  could  be  pur 
chased  for  horse-feed,  but  even  that  relief  was  precarious  and 
could  not  be  relied  on.  The  routes  were  necessarily  circuitous, 
and  their  progress  slow.  They  were  often,  from  one  county  to 
the  other,  from  six  to  ten  days  in  the  wilderness,  and  at  all 
seasons  of  the  year  were  compelled  to  swim  every  water-course 
in  their  way  which  was  too  deep  to  be  forded.  That  fact  made 
it  common,  when  purchasing  a  horse,  to  ask  if  he  was  a  good 
swimmer,  which  was  considered  the  most  valuable  quality  of  a 
saddle-horse. 

Other  fatigues  and  troubles  were  connected  with  these  excur 
sions  during  the  early  days  of  the  settlement  of  the  country. 
Although  they  were  connected  with  privations  and  exposure, 
and  often  with  great  personal  danger,  yet  they  were  not  desti 
tute  of  interest  or  amusement.  The  exploration  of  the  rich, 


WA  YNE  'S  SCO  UTS.  979 

luxuriant  forest  and  prairie,  through  which  they  passed,  could 
not  fail  to  produce  the  most  pleasurable  sensation.  To  enliven 
the  monotony  of  a  tour  through  the  boundless  forest  the  parties 
would  ride  in  groups  together,  telling  adventures  of  their  lives, 
and  yarns,  to  their  mutual  entertainment.  Now  and  then,  dur 
ing  good  weather,  the  one  or  the  other,  who  had  a  taste  and 
some  knowledge  of  music,  would  unpack  a  flute  or  a  fiddle  from 
his  saddle-bag,  and  strike  up  the  melody  of  some  popular  air, 
or  a  song  of  the  time,  in  which  the  company  would  often  join  in 
with  a  hearty  chorus.  Their  nightly  encampments  or  rests  in 
some  lonesome  cabin,  which  would  furnish  them  a  meager  shel 
ter,  were  not  unfrequently  enlivened  with  this  sort  of  amuse 
ment,  which  all  readily  enjoyed. 


FORT  WASHINGTON. 

In  the  year  1803  Ohio  was  admitted  as  a  State  and  the 
other  part  of  the  Northwestern  Territory  was  divided  into  four 
Territories,  which  now  compose  the  States  of  Indiana,  Illinois, 
Michigan,  and  Wisconsin.  Gradually  civilization  entered  and 
dispersed  the  romances  and  tragedies  connected  with  the  pio 
neer  life  in  the  country  northwest  of  the  Ohio  River. 


980 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


OHAPTEE  XXXII. 

THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY. 

HE  earlier  Indian  writers,  like  the  earlier  histo 
rians,  confined  themselves  to  the  exterior  of 
their  subject.  They  preferred  events,  dramatic 
narratives,  thrilling  recountals  to  the  simple 
facts  which  make  up  the  every-day  life  of  the 
Indian.  His  childhood,  education,  dress,  beliefs, 
religion,  and  sports  were  briefly  and  inade 
quately  described.  But  the  murder  of  a  white 
man  or  a  bloody  massacre  was  related  with  horrible  detail  and 
particularity.  In  the  last  few'  years  this  astonishing  defect 
has  been  supplied  by  faithful  and  accurate  observers  of  Indian 
life  as  it  is.  It  is  by  the  help  of  such  observers  that  we  are 
enabled  in  our  closing  chapter  to  give  a  glimpse  of  the  Red  Man 
of  To-day. 

There  are  wide  differences  among  the  Indians  of  the  present. 
There  are,  first,  the  so-called  civilized  Indians.  These  are  found 
in  fragments  scattered  through  the  older  states.  Such  are  the 
Oneidas,  of  New  York,  and  the  Miamis,  of  Indiana.  To  these, 
too,  belong  the  solemn,  copper-faced  individuals  whom  the  sum 
mer  tourist  finds  selling  beads  at  Niagara  Falls,  or  dwelling  in 
shanties  at  Petoskey,  Michigan,  and  along  the  shores  of  the  lovely 
Mackinaw  Island.  Among  all  the  civilized  Indians,  however, 
those  of  Indian  Territory  are  pre-eminent.  There  the  Creeks, 
Cherokees,  and  other  tribes  have  dwelt  for  half  a  century  under 
the  direct  protection  of  the  government,  from  which  they  draw 
abundant  pensions.  Many  of  them  are  men  of  wealth  and  intel- 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  981 

ligence.  They  live  in  a  style  superior  to  that  of  the  white 
settlers  by  whom  they  are  surrounded.  They  are  dressed  in 
fashionable  clothing,  and  understand  not  merely  the  comforts 
but  the  luxuries  of  civilized  life.  Their  sons  are  sent  east  to 
be  educated  in  the  leading  colleges,  and  their  daughters  some 
times  reveal  the  work  of  the  young  ladies'  finishing  school.  A 
lady  from  Fort  Scott,  Kansas,  told  the  writer  of  a  public  ban 
quet  and  ball  tendered  by  the  citizens  of  the  place  to  an  excur 
sion  of  leading  Creeks  from  the  territory.  The  visitors  wore 
full  dress,  and  danced  with  an  ease  and  elegance  which  the 
young  men  of  Fort  Scott  hardly  rivaled.  They  were  courteous 
and  accomplished,  polished  in  manners  and  easy  in  conversation. 
Their  dark  skin  and  black  hair  and  eyes  gave  them  the  appear 
ance  of  distinguished  foreigners,  an  illusion  materially  assisted 
by  their  accent. 

Next  to  these  civilized  Indians  come  the  semi-civilized. 
Unlike  the  former,  these  have  not  arrived  at  their  present  con 
dition  through  intercourse  with  the  whites.  The  Pueblos  of 
New  Mexico  have  considerable  knowledge  of  the  mechanic  arts. 
They  built  houses,  constructed  irrigating  canals,  dug  cisterns, 
planted  trees,  raised  crops  of  grain,  vegetables,  and  fruits,  made 
pottery,  wove  cloth  and  blankets,  long  before  the  white  invaders 
began  to  trouble  them.  Next  to  the  Pueblos  rank  the  Nava- 
joes,  followed  at  a  still  greater  distance  by  certain  bands  of 
the  Apaches,  whose  home  is  in  the  mountains.  Indeed,  we 
have  already  passed  the  line  of  semi-civilization,  and  find  our 
selves  among  the  genuine  "wild  Indians,"  to  whom  belong  four- 
fifths  of  all  living  red  men.  Some  of  these  we  have  already 
met.  There  are  the  Ojibwas  in  the  north,  around  Lake  Supe 
rior,  the  Sioux,  Arrapahoes,  and  Cheyennes,  known  generally  as 
the  "Plains  Indians,"  the  Comanches  and  Kiowas  of  Texas, 
and  the  Digger  Indians  of  California  and  the  western  coast. 
The  latter  are  the  lowest  of  all  the  tribes.  The  name  is  given 
promiscuously  to  the  Utes,  Shoshones,  and  others,  who  live  on 
snakes,  lizards,  grasshoppers,  and  such  roots  as  they  can  "dig," 


982  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

for  which  purpose  the  poor  wretches  carry  sharpened  sticks. 
One  singular  fact  is  the  infinite  diversity  of  languages.  Not 
only  every  tribe,  but  every  band,  of  which  there  are  sometimes 
fifty  in  a  single  tribe,  has  its  own  dialect  or  jargon,  perfectly 
unintelligible  to  all  who  do  not  belong  to  the  band.  In  all  times 
the  Indians  have  disdained  to  learn  even  a  few  words  of  an 
enemy's  language.  Stranger  yet,  the  Cheyennes  and  Arrapa- 
hoes  for  three  quarters  of  a  century  have  been  firm  friends, 
camping  and  hunting  together,  and  making  war  upon  the  same 
enemies  at  the  same  times.  The  children  constantly  romp  and 
play  together  in  the  common  camp.  Yet  not  one  in  ten  of 
either  tribe  can  hold  the  most  ordinary  conversation  in  the  lan 
guage  of  the  other. 

Unable  to  speak  one  another's  language,  the  Indians  of  the 
West  have  constructed  a  wonderful  sign  language,  by  which 
they  hold  intercourse.  Gestures,  signs,  are  more  or  less  natural 
to  every  one.  Among  the  Plains  Indians  alone  have  they 
reached  their  most  wonderful  development.  So  complicated 
and  elaborate  is  the  sign  language,  consisting  of  countless  ges 
tures  and  movements,  the  slightest  variations  in  which  mark 
wide  differences  in  meaning,  that  only  a  few  Indians  in  a  tribe 
are  complete  masters  of  it,  and  the  masses  can  only  use  it 
slightly.  The  signs  do  not  indicate  letters,  nor  words,  as  with 
the  deaf  and  dumb,  but  ideas.  There  is  one  sign  to  indicate 
hunger,  another  for  "  stop  talking,"  another  for  summer,  and  so 
on  infinitely.  Yet  an  expert  sign  talker  will  either  make  or 
interpret  a  long  speech,  which  consists  of  an  infinite  number  of 
signs  following  each  other  with  lightning-like  rapidity.  Two 
strange  Indians  will  meet  on  horseback,  each  unable  to  under 
stand  a  spoken  word  of  the  other,  and,  while  holding  the  reins 
with  the  left  hands,  will  converse  for  hours  with  their  right, 
telling  stories  or  relating  their  experience,  without  a  single 
misunderstanding. 

While  remembering  that  there  must  be  great  differences  in 
the  customs  of  a  thousand  restless  bands,  which  maintain  such 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  983 

differences  in  language,  we  may  take  the  so-called  "Plains 
Indians  "  as  a  fair  type  of  all  the  tribes  of  the  West.  They 
inhabit  the  great  plains  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  from 
Canada  to  the  Gulf.  They  are  cut  up  into  sixty  distinct  tribes, 
comprising  one-half  the  Indians  of  the  United  States. 

Among  the  Plains  Indians  the  baby,  as  soon  as  born,  is  placed 
in  an  upright  nest,  made  of  buffalo  hide,  coming  up  to  its  neck. 
This  nest  is  fastened  to  a  board.  Straps  are  attached,  which  the 
mother  throws  over  her  shoulders  while  at  work.  Sometimes 
she  hangs  it  to  a  tree,  or  leans  it  against  a  stump.  Here  the 
child  passes  the  first  year  of  its  life,  being  removed  once  or 
twice  a  day  to  be  washed  or  dressed.  If  it  attempts  to  cry, 
Mrs.  Squaw  slaps  her  hand  over  its  mouth,  seizes  the  nose 
between  thumb  and  finger,  and  holds  on  till  the  child  is  nearly 
suffocated.  The  youngster  soon  learns  the  lesson.  As  the 
child  approaches  the  age  of  crawling,  it  gets  out  of  its  prison. 

Girls  remain  somewhat  under  the  mother's  control  until 
twelve  or  fifteen  years  old,  at  which  time  they  are  apt  to 
marry.  Their  principal  resource  is  playing  with  dolls.  At  six 
teen  their  beauty,  such  as  it  is,  is  generally  gone,  a  result  of 
their  hard  life  and  constant  exposure. 

The  boy  grows  up  without  restraint.  His  mother  is  not  per 
mitted  to  strike  him  or  control  him.  At  the  age  of  six,  he  and 
his  fellows,  armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  roam  around,  killing 
birds,  or  shooting  at  small  animals.  A  little  later  his  father 
places  him  in  charge  of  the  ponies.  He  goes  out  each  morning, 
armed  with  a  lariat,  and  passes  the  day  lassoing  the  animals 
and  riding  them,  bareback  and  without  bridle,  at  break-neck 
speed  across  the  country,  becoming  by  this  practice  a  miracle 
of  horsemanship.  If  tired  of  riding,  he  and  his  companions 
practice  with  bow  and  arrows  on  such  ground  squirrels,  spar 
rows,  or  larks,  as  come  in  their  way,  or  run  races  on  foot. 
All  the  while  they  bet  with  each  other  such  articles  as  a  boy 
is  likely  to  have  about  him  with  the  true  spirit  of  the  hardened 
gambler. 


984  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

At  the  age  of  twelve,  the  young  Indian  is  relieved  from 
duty  on  the  herd  by  his  younger  brothers,  and  is  given  arrows 
with  iron  heads.  This  marks  an  epoch  in  his  life.  He  is  a 
mere  animal.  He  has  no  conception  of  right  or  wrong.  Instead 
of  the  lessons  of  gentleness  and  peace,  which  the  white  mother 
impresses  on  her  boy,  his  ambition  is  constantly  goaded  toward 
feats  of  bloodshed  and  violence.  He  listens  to  the  talk  of  the 
warriors,  and  early  discovers  that  such  things  alone  are  worthy 
of  a  warrior's  ambition.  With  a  band  of  fellows,  some  one  of 
which  has  a  natural  pre-eminence  which  makes  him  its  leader, 
he  roams  over  the  country  in  search  of  victims.  Some  of  the 
most  cold-blooded  atrocities  of  the  frontier  have  been  the  work 
of  these  young  devils  in  quest  of  fame.  From  each  of  these 
expeditions  one  or  more  youths  return  with  erect  carriage  and 
pompous  airs,  announcing  that  they  are  candidates  for  the  dis 
tinction  of  warriors.  The  chiefs  assemble  in  council.  Each 
youth  in  turn  recites  the  basis  of  his  claim,  screaming,  jumping, 
yelling,  gesticulating  to  illustrate  his  exploit.  Other  witnesses 
are  heard,  and  then  the  council  goes  into  secret  session.  After 
some  time  the  chief  announces  from  the  dox)r  of  the  council 
lodge  the  names  of  the  successful  ones.  These  separately  re 
tire  to  some  lonely  spot,  where  they  fast  for  a  time  in  solitude, 
and  decide  upon  their  "  medicine,"  which  will  be  described  here 
after.  This  done,  the  youth  is  a  full-fledged  warrior. 

No  sooner  has  the  boy  been  proclaimed  a  warrior  than  he 
begins  to  look  for  a  wife.  His  manner  of  making  love  is 
peculiar.  Wrapped  in  his  buffalo  robe,  or  in  summer  in  his 
cotton  mantle,  and  decorated  in  the  gaudiest  fashion,  he  stands 
for  hours,  in  perfect  silence,  about  the  lodge  of  the  girl  he 
seeks  to  woo.  Though  uttering  not  a  word,  his  conduct  is  as 
well  understood  as  the  clucking  of  an  old  hen  that  wants  to 
set.  After  a  few  visits,  the  girl's  family  and  friends  hold  a 
consultation.  If  the  result  is  favorable  to  the  aspirant,  the  girl 
indicates  it  by  coquettish  glances.  That  night  the  lover  hides 
near  her  door.  Though  the  whole  village  knows  what  he  is 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  985 

about,  he  is  supposed  to  be  unseen  by  any  one.  Presently  the 
girl,  having  "  roped "  herself,  issues  from  the  lodge  and  is 
pounced  upon  by  her  lover.  If  she  resists,  he  must  immediately 
leave  her.  If  not,  he  carries  her  to  some  neighboring  spot  and 
begins  his  courtship  in  earnest.  At  first,  the  pair  simply  stand 
and  look  at  each  other.  On  subsequent  evenings,  they  remain 
standing,  but  if  the  affair  progresses  well,  they  are  locked  in 
each  other's  arms.  Sometimes  a  girl  who  has  several  lovers 
will  keep  them  in  suspense  this  way  for  a  year,  spending  her 
•evenings  with  different  ones. 

At  last  the  young  brave  gets  his  mother  to  interview  the 
girl's  people.  Her  father  names  the  number  of  ponies  and  buf 
falo  robes  which  he  demands.  A  wrangle  ensues.  If  the  price 
is  thought  too  high  the  affair  is  off.  If  not,  the  lover  ties  his 
ponies  at  the  door  of  the  lodge.  On  the  following  morning,  if 
the  ponies  are  still  there,  he  knows  that  his  suit  is  rejected. 
If  not,  he  takes  the  girl  without  ceremony  to  his  own  or  his 
father's  lodge.  Henceforth,  she  is  his  property.  As  the  war 
rior  may  have  as  many  wives  as  he  can  afford  to  buy,  his  new 
wife  is  sometimes  number  three  or  four. 

Every  body  knows  that  the  life  of  the  Indian  woman  is  one 
of  incessant  toil  for  her  lord  and  master.  She  does  all  domestic 
work,  butchers  the  game,  dresses  the  skins,  brings  wood  and 
water,  and  when  her  husband  returns  from  the  hunt  always 
unsaddles  his  horse,  and  feeds  and  waters  it.  She  is  simply 
the  property  of  her  husband.  He  may  beat  her,  sell  her,  or 
kill  her,  as  he  pleases.  One  resource  is  left  to  the  woman.  She 
has  a  right  at  any  time  "  to  go  off  with  a  handsomer  man."  If 
her  husband  mistreats  her,  she  negotiates  for  another  husband 
through  some  old-  woman  friend.  If  she  falls  in  love  with 
another  warrior,  the  result  is  the  same.  Her  husband  wakes 
up  some  morning,  to  find  her  at  work  cooking  and  drudging  in 
another  man's  lodge,  as  if  she  had  been  there  always.  Her 
former  husband  simply  reports  the  matter  to  the  chief.  He  and 
his  advisers  fix  the  price  which  the  new  husband  must  pay  the 


986  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

old  one  for  his  wife.  If  this  is  done  the  affair  is  ended. 
Otherwise,  the  man  has  a  right  to  kill  his  unfaithful  squaw. 

On  one  occasion,  the  young  warrior  with  whom  the  wife  of 
an  old  Indian  had  eloped  was  unable  to  pay  for  her.  Her  for 
mer  master  took  her  back,  made  her  sit  down  with  one  foot  on 
the  other,  and  deliberately  fired  a  rifle  ball  through  both  feet. 
This  done,  he  grimly  presented  her  to  her  lover,  saying :  "  You 
may  be  sure  she  will  not  run  off  with  another  man." 

Custom  makes  it  perfectly  proper  for  an  Indian  to  make 
love  to  another  man's  wife,  even  in  the  presence  of  her  husband. 
Whatever  may  be  the  latter's  feelings,  he  is  bound  to  listen  to 
the  love  making,  even  to  the  most  passionate  vows,  without  pay 
ing  any  attention  to  it.  The  women  of  the  different  tribes  vary 
greatly  in  chastity,  but  the  customs  above  described,  make  the 
husbands  generally,  good  and  kind.  The  only  notice  usually 
taken  of  a  wife's  infidelity  is  to  send  her  back  to  her  father's 
lodge  and  levy  a  fine  of  so  many  ponies  on  her  lover,  he  in  turn, 
having  the  same  right  as  against  any  subsequent  brave  with 
whom  she  may  take  up.  The  unmarried  women  of  the  Chey- 
ennes  and  Arrapahoes  have  a  singular  custom  of  tying  a  rope 
about  their  lower  limbs,  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  walking, 
whenever  they  are  outside  of  their  father's  lodge.  In  the 
absence  of  their  husbands,  married  women  do  the  same 
thing.  But  for  this,  which  custom  has  made  their  protection,  no 
woman  would  be  safe  from  the  assaults  which  every  man  has 
the  right  to  make.  Even  with  it,  no  woman  ventures  far  from 
her  lodge  without  a  companion. 

The  "teepe"  or  buffalo  tent,  which  constitutes  the  perma 
nent  lodge  of  the  Plains  Indians,  has  already  been  described 
in  our  chapter  on  Kit  Carson.  Another  kind  of  a  lodge,  used 
for  temporary  camps,  is  made  of  small,  fresh-cut  poles,  the  ends 
of  which  are  stuck  in  the  ground  and  the  tops  bent  over  and 
fastened  together.  Over  this  frame  blankets  are  spread,  even 
if  the  occupants  have  to  sleep  shivering  on  the  ground  with 
out  cover. 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  987 

Every  tribe  has  its  peculiar  style  of  lodge.  The  Omaha 
Indians  build  a  rectangular  frame-work,  on  which  they  spread 
their  skins  and  blankets.  The  Osages  build  a  lodge  shaped  like 
the  top  of  an  emigrant  wagon.  The  far-famed  Pueblos  live  in 
elaborate  and  complicated  structures  of  poles  and  mud.  A 
Plains  Indian  out  by  himself  will  build  a  lodge  no  larger  than 
a  dog  kennel ;  so  small,  indeed,  that  it  seems  impossible  that 
a  man  could  get  into  it.  Yet  he  will  build  a  fire  in  the  cen 
ter  of  this  tiny  structure,  curl  himself  around  it,  and  sleep 
contentedly. 

The  largest  teepe  is  hardly  eighteen  feet  in  diameter.  This 
apartment  serves  for  cooking,  eating,  living,  and  sleeping,  and 
for  the  lounging-place  of  dogs.  The  beds,  consisting  of  buffalo 
robes  and  blankets,  with  pillows  made  of  rolled  buffalo  robes, 
or  of  the  skins  of  smaller  animals  stuffed  with  grass,  lie  around 
the  fire,  serving  at  night  for  sleeping  purposes  and  used  by  day 
for  seats  and  lounges.  From  one  to  four  families  occupy  the 
lodge.  Besides  the  beds,  its  only  furniture  is  an  iron  pot  and 
kettle,  a  water  bucket,  some  tin  cups,  extra  clothing,  weapons, 
and  the  inevitable  "  par  fleche "  trunks,  containing  dried  meat, 
of  .which  we  will  speak  more  particularly  hereafter. 

Each  wife  has  a  bed  which  she  occupies  with  her  children. 
Of  course,  the  crowd  of  dirty  warriors,  squaws,  children,  and 
dogs,  crowded  into  the  teepe  render  it  a  place  of  inconceivable 
filth.  This,  however,  never  affects  the  appetites  of  the  inmates. 
In  camp,  the  duty  of  cooking  devolves  upon  the  oldest  squaw. 
There  is  only  one  article  on  the  bill  of  fare.  .A  huge,  iron  pot 
is  filled  with  meat  and  water,  and  placed  over  the  fire  to  boil, 
but  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  point  when  the  food  is  "  done." 
Neither  is  there  any  regular  time  for  meals,  of  which  there  is 
usually  only  one  a  day.  If  any  Indian  is  hungry,  he  dips  into 
the  stew  as  soon  as  it  is  warm.  One  by  one  the  crowd  pitches 
in,  helping  themselves  from  the  common  pot  with  fingers,  knives^ 
or  sticks.  No  fault  is  found  with  the  cooking,  provided  the 
supply  is  abundant.  This  mode  of  cooking  the  meat  is  pre- 


988  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

ferred  by  the  squaws  as  being  easier  than  broiling  on  the  coals. 
The  warriors,  of  course,  prefer  the  latter,  but,  like  their  white 
brothers,  submit  to  the  women. 

When  on  the  hunt  or  war-path,  no  squaws  are  along,  and 
each  warrior  cooks  his  own  meal,  always  broiling  his  game  over 
the  glowing  coals  in  appetizing  style.  He  knows  the  choicest 
parts  of  every  animal,  and  is  a  first-class  cook.  His  nights  are 
largely  spent  in  feasting  on  these  occasions.  "  This  is  the  time 
for  marrow  guts,  for  '  hump  ribs,'  and  for  '  marrow  bones.'  The 
first  can,  to  the  Indian,  scarcely  be  improved  by  cooking,  but 
the  greatest  epicures  will  wrap  eight  or  ten  feet  around  a  stick, 
sprinkle  it  plentifully  with  salt,  and  hold  it  in  a  bright  blaze 
until  the  melted  fat  runs  down.  The  whole  mass  is  swallowed 
almost  red-hot,  and  is  the  choicest  bonne  louche  with  which  an 
Indian  palate  -can  be  tickled." 

Sometimes  our  epicure  of  the  plains  bakes  the  ribs  of  a  buf 
falo  before  his  fire ;  again,  he  takes  the  large  bones  of  its  hind 
legs,  roasts  them  in  the  coals,  then  cracks  them  open  with  a 
stone,  and  sucks  enormous  quantities  of  fiery,  hot  marrow. 
During  the  feast  he  continually  wipes  his  greasy  hands  on 
his  long,  black  hair.  In  the  course  of  a  night  of  feasting  and 
story- telling,  an  average  Indian  will  devour  fifteen  pounds  of 
meat.  This  remarkable  statement  is  based  on  unquestionable 
authority.  All  Indians  use  salt,  it  being  easily  obtained.  Tea, 
coffee,  and  sugar  are  very  rare.  In  late  years  some  squaws 
have  learned  how  to  make  bread. 

The  influence  of  the  white  man  is  observable  in  the  cus 
tom  introduced  in  some  bands  of  having  an  old  squaw  pass 
the  pot  around  and  help  the  circle  of  savages,  old  and  young, 
with  a  great,  wooden  ladle.  This  is  unpopular,  however,  and 
the  old  squaw  is  suspected  of  partiality.  If  any  part  of  the 
mighty  stew  remains  over,  it  is  set  away  cold,  and  such  as 
wish,  go  to  it  during  the  rest  of  the  day.  Besides  such  wild 
meat,  which  is  to-day  the  rarest  dish  on  any  white  man's  table, 
different  tribes  of  Plains  Indians  have  other  favorite  dishes ; 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  989 

among  some  of  them  skunk  is  very  popular;  others  adore  horse 
flesh,  while  the  Cheyennes  worship  fat  puppy.  Since  1872, 
as  most  of  the  Indians  have  been  confined  on  reservations,  and 
white  men  have  virtually  killed  off  the  game,  the  food  question 
has  become  one  of  paramount  importance  to  the  Indian.  The 
government  supplies  are  totally  inadequate,  and  'dogs,  wolves, 
reptiles,  half  decomposed  horse-flesh,  even  carrion  birds,  all  go 
to  appease  the  gna wings  of  his  famished  stomach.  Every  mili 
tary  post  in  the  Indian  country  is  besieged  by  these  starving 
people.  The  slop-barrels  and  dump-piles  are  carefully  scruti 
nized,  and  stuff  that  a  cur  would  disdain  is  carried  off  in  tri 
umph.  The  offal  about  the  butcher-shop  is  quarreled  over  and 
devoured  raw  on  the  spot." 

This  condition  of  the  Indians  results  from  the  destruction  of 
the  buffalo.  As  late  as  1871  the  buffalo  herds  moved  northward 
each  year  in  a  column  fifty  miles  wide  and  of  unknown  length. 
Early  in  October,  when  the  animals  were  at  their  fattest,  the 
Indians  made  preparations  for  the  great  fall  hunt.  The  spot 
for  the  hunting-camp  was  chosen  with  great  care,  and  to  it  the 
whole  band  repaired.  The  "  surround,"  as  it  is  called,  described 
elsewhere  in  this  book,  was  the  plan  adopted  for  killing  a  large 
number  of  animals,  the  slaughter  sometimes  reaching  three  or 
four  hundred  at  a  single  "  surround." 

As  soon  as  the  charge  was  over,  and  the  noble  game  lay 
panting  on  the  ground,  the  women  fell  to  work  to  skin  the  ani 
mals,  cut  off  the  meat  from  the  bones,  and  carry  it  to  the  camp 
on  the  backs  of  ponies.  No  time  was  to  be  lost.  The  skins 
were  spread  on  level  ground,  flesh  side  up,  and  tightly  stretched 
by  pegs  driven  into  the  ground.  The  meat  was  cut  into  thin 
strips  and  hung  on  poles,  already  arranged,  to  dry  in  the  sun. 
The  squaws  worked  day  and  night,  as  the  skin  becomes  useless 
if  it  dries  unstretched,  and  the  meat  spoils  in  a  few  hours  if 
not  "jerked."  As  soon  as  this  lot  of  game  was  out  of  the  way, 
another  "  surround  "  took  place,  and  so  on  through  the  season. 
When  the  killing  was  over,  the  squaws  began  other  work. 


990  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  thickest  skins  were  soaked  in  water  containing  wood 
ashes,  which  removed  the  hair.  They  were  then  cut  in  the 
desired  sizes,  stretched  on  forms  of  various  shapes,  and  allowed 
to  dry.  They  became  as  hard  as  iron,  and  ready  for  use  as 
trunks,  or  "  par  fleches,"  as  they  were  called.  The  dried  meat 
was  then  pounded  to  powder  between  stones,  and  a  layer  of  the 
powder,  two  inches  thick,  placed  in  the  bottom  of  the  trunk. 
Over  this  was  poured  a  layer  of  melted  tallow,  and  so  on,  alter 
nately,  till  the  trunk  was  full.  The  whole  was  kept  hot  until 
the  melted  tallow  had  saturated  the  powder.  The  mass  thus 
prepared,  kept  for  many  years,  constituting  the  principal  food 
of  the  Indians.  It  took  the  place  of  bread  to  them.  In  late 
years,  they  pack  the  beef  issued  to  them  by  the  government  in 
the  same  way. 

When  the  Indians  used  arrows,  each  hunter  could  identify 
his  own  game.  With  the  introduction  of  firearms  this  became 
impossible,  and  the  fruit  of  the  "  surround "  became  common 
property.  After  the  preparation  of  the  meat,  the  skins  next 
received  attention,  the  squaws  preparing  them  for  different 
uses,  as  for  saddles,  shields,  lariats,  robes,  and  tent  covers.  The 
preparation  of  the  robe  was  the  crowning  work  of  the  squaw. 
With  a  small  implement,  shaped  like  an  adze,  she  chipped  away 
at  the  hardened  hide  to  thin  it,  chopping  off  a  piece  each  time 
from  the  surface,  yet  never  cutting  through.  To  render  the 
hide  soft,  buffalo  brains  were  rubbed  in  with  a  stone.  Even 
after  all  this  work,  the  squaw  would,  if  the  robe  was  to  be 
worn  by  her  husband,  spend  many  months  in  ornamenting  it 
with  colored  quills  and  grasses. 

But  the  buffalo  is  practically  extinct.  In  1872  there  was 
apparently  no  limit  to  their  number.  In  1873,  where  there  had 
been  myriads  of  buffalo  there  were  myriads  of  rotting  carcasses. 
How  did  this  come  about?  Three  great  railroads  had  pene 
trated  the  West.  It  became  known  that  a  buffalo  hide  was 
worth  four,  or  five  dollars.  From  all  parts  of  the  country 
hunters  came  in  hundreds  and  thousands,  by  rail,  in  wagons, 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  991 

on  horseback.  By  1874  five  million  buffaloes  had  been  slaugh 
tered  for  their  hides.  The  resource  of  the  Indians  for  food  and 
shelter  was  practically  destroyed.  It  was  done  in  violation  of 
law,  and  the  Indians,  before  virtually  independent,  are  now 
starving  paupers.  Frenzied  with  hunger  they  are  dangerous. 

From  the  topics  of  shelter  and  food  we  pass  naturally  to 
that  of  clothing.  The  Indian  dresses  for  ornament,  not  for 
decency.  The  broadest  demands  of  the  latter  are  supposed  to 
be  met  by  the  breech  cloth,  which  consists  of  a  cloth  five  to 
eight  feet  long,  passed  over  a  string  around  the  waist,  under 
the  legs,  and  up  over  the  string  on  the  opposite  side.  In  addi 
tion  to  this  the  Indian  for  home  costume  frequently  wraps  him 
self  in  a  cotton  mantle.  To  this  simple  dress  is  now  added 
many  strange  bits  of  white  men's  clothing.  A  plug  hat,  a  green 
veil,  a  pair  of  hoopskirts,  a  parasol,  a  peacock  feather,  a  soldier's 
coat,  a  Chinese  fan,  are  all  seized  upon,  and  used  without  regard 
to  congruity  or  sense.  The  funniest  sight  in  the  world  is  a 
party  of  Indians  decked  out  to  receive  white  men. 

Boots  and  pantaloons  are  despised  by  the  red  man  most 
bitterly.  If  they  are  issued  to  him  by  the  government  he 
trades  them  off  to  the  first  chance  comer  for  the  veriest  trifle. 
The  Indians  of  the  west,  unlike  those  of  the  east,  allow  their 
hair  to  grow  long.  The  scalp  lock  is  never  seen  on  the  plains. 
The  warrior  has  also  a  state  dress  made  of  buckskin,  and  orna 
mented  by  the  toil-worn  fingers  of  his  wife,  which  constitutes 
his  most  precious  possession. 

The  women  are  rapidly  abandoning  the  buckskin  skirts  com 
ing  to  their  knees  and  the  scanty  jackets  for  short  calico  dresses, 
shawls,  and  leather  belts.  Both  sexes  have  an  overwhelming 
passion  for  finery.  Cheap  jewelry,  a  bit  of  tinsel,  a  red  feather, 
are  prized  above  all  things.  The  poorest  Indian,  dressed  in  his 
simple  breech  cloth,  will  be  sure  to  have  a  bit  of  brass  wire 
and  a  feather  or  two,  with  which  he  will  proudly  decorate  him 
self  on  special  occasions.  Some  tribes,  when  first  discovered, 
wore  no  clothing  whatever.  The  poor  Digger  imagines  himself 


992  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

most  elaborately  costumed,  when  his  naked  body  is  smeared 
with  yellow  clay.  All  Indians,  except  the  most  enlightened 
chiefs,  use  paint  more  or  less  on  their  persons.  Ear-rings  often 
consist  of  at  least  a  half  pound  of  beads,  stones,  and  shells, 
pulling  the  ear  of  the  wearer  out  of  all  shape. 

Except  in  the  summer,  a  band  of  Indians  leads  a  nomadic 
life.  Every  few  days  the  camp  is  broken  up,  its  belongings 
packed  on  the  ponies  by  the  squaws,  and  the  whole  motley 
crowd  moves  off  to  some  new  hunting-ground.  These  frequent 
removals  cause  great  labor.  The  squaws  are  worked  to  death, 
putting  up  and  taking  down  lodges.  As  a  result,  every  thing 
which  is  unnecessary  is  thrown  away. 

An  expert  can  tell  at  once  from  the  location  of  a  summer 
camp  to  which  particular  tribe  it  belongs.  The  Sioux,  who  have 
a  mortal  dread  of  ambuscade,  pitch  their  lodges  away  from  all 
timber;  the  Cheyennes  camp  in  the  open  prairie,  but  near 
timber;  the  Comanches  select  pretty  situations  in  open  wood 
land,  while  the  Osages  and  the  Omahas  pitch  their  lodges  in  the 
heart  of  an  impenetrable  thicket.  Formerly  in  these  camps  the 
teepes  of  the  chiefs  were  pitched  in  a  circle,  an  inclosure  which 
served  as  a  public  square,  in  which  all  assemblies,  trading,  gam 
bling,  and  dancing  took  place.  Here  on  warm  summer  evenings 
the  whole  band  would  gather  for  social  occupations.  At  present 
each  petty  chief  selects  the  ground  for  his  lodge,  and  his  fol 
lowers  pitch  theirs  around  it. 

A  more  material  change  than  the  arrangement  of  the  lodges 
has  also  come  over  the  summer  life  of  the  Indians.  In  the  last 
six  years  the  scarcity  of  game  and  the  utter  inadequacy  of  gov 
ernment  supplies  has  forced  the  Indians,  much  against  their  will, 
to  till  the  ground.  A  spot  is  selected  by  a  band  early  in  the 
spring.  When  the  season  opens  men,  women,  and  children  fall 
to  work  making  fences,  breaking  ground,  and  planting  seed. 
"All  summer  long  many  of  the  noble  red  men,  with  wives  and 
children,  may  be  found  working  in  the  fields,  nearly  naked, 
sweaty,  dirty,  and  unromantic." 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  993 

The  winter  camp,  which  is  regarded  by  the  Indian  as  his 
true  home,  is  but  little  changed.  When  the  great  fall  hunt  is 
over,  a  hot  discussion  takes  place  among  the  men.  Skillful 
warriors  have  made  various  journeys  to  ascertain  a  proper  loca 
tion  for  the  winter  camp.  When  these  return  they  are  care 
fully  interrogated  by  the  council  as  to  shelter,  wood,  water,  and 
food  for  the  ponies.  For  days  the  debate  proceeds,  each  local 
ity  having  valorous  champions.  At  last  the  place  is  selected, 
invariably  on  the  shore  of  some  stream.  This  done,  a  general 
rush  takes  place  to  get  there  first  and  pick  the  choicest  spots 
on  which  to  pitch  the  teepes. 

When  all  are  snugly  fixed  the  enjoyments  of  the  winter 
begin.  The  excitements,  the  toil  of  the  summer  give  place  to 
a  long  season  of  idleness  and  pleasure.  The  old  warriors  pass 
the  winter  days  and  the  long  cold  evenings  in  gambling  and 
smoking.  The  old  women,  relieved  of  the  hard  labor  of  taking 
down  and  putting  up  the  teepe  and  packing  the  ponies,  now 
find  comparative  rest.  The  young  of  both  sexes  find  time  to 
indulge  in  an  unending  round  of  fun.  Visits,  feasts,  dances, 
frolics,  and  above  all,  love-making,  make  the  merry  hours  glide 
swift  away.  Although  there  is  much  talk  among  the  solemn, 
old  braves,  sitting  hour  after  hour  around  the  campfire,  there  is 
little  thought.  They  will  spend  a  half  a  day  discussing  where 
one  killed  a  deer,  or  another  saw  a  buffalo  track.  The  women 
work  much  of  the  time  dressing  hides,  making  lariats,  and  orna 
menting  robes  for  their  husbands. 

The  great  occupation  of  the  men  during  the  winter  is  that 
of  gambling.  A  blanket  is  spread  on  the  ground,  around  which 
the  Indians  sit,  crowding  the  lodge  with  an  excited  throng. 
Three  or  four  leaders  face  each  other  next  to  the  blanket.  The 
first  thing  is  to  make  up  the  bets.  Almost  every  man  and 
woman  in  the  crowd  bet  with  each  other,  backing  one  side 
of  the  game,  and  lay  their  stakes  in  a  pile  on  one  end  of 
the  blanket.  The  collection  is  curious,  containing  silver- 
mounted  saddles,  fine  bows  and  arrows,  old  moccasins,  necklaces, 

56 


994  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

money,  iron  pots,  every  thing  which  the  Indian  has  in  the  way 
of  property. 

When  the  betting  is  done  the  leader  commences  the  game 
by  holding  up  in  his  fingers  a  bit  of  bone,  two  inches  long, 
and  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  diameter.  After  a  moment's  pause, 
he  brings  his  hands  together  and  passes  the  bone  back  and 
forth  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  with  marvelous  dexterity  and 
swiftness.  His  opponents  watch  Jiim  carefully,  and  one  of  them 
at  length  guesses  which  hand  the  bone  is  in.  The  leader 
instantly  opens  his  palm,  and  if  the  guess  was  correct,  the  side 
of  the  guesser  wins  a  point;  if  not,  the  other  side  scores  one. 
Twenty-one  points  is  a  game,  the  leaders  on  the  opposite  sides 
taking  turn  about  with  the  bone.  When  the  game  is  ended, 
each  winner  takes  back  his  stake  and  that  of  his  adversary  as 
well.  The  game  is  accompanied  by  loud  shouts,  much  wrangling 
and  bantering. 

This  game,  though  always  popular  because  it  admits  any 
number  of  players,  is  not  the  first  choice  of  ardent  gamblers. 
All  games  of  cards  are  thoroughly  understood.  Cheating  is  con 
sidered  perfectly  legitimate,  if  not  caught  at  it.  The  Indians 
are  genuine  gamblers,  and  will  sometimes  lose  their  blankets, 
furs,  weapons,  ponies,  wives,  and  even  children.  Whenever  a 
game  is  about  to  be  begun  in  a  lodge,  the  tom-tom  is  beaten  as 
an  invitation  for  all  to  come  in.  The  squaws  are  more  conser 
vative  than  the  men,  and  when  they  find  their  husbands  losing 
heavily,  generally  manage  to  break  up  the  game. 

The  most  exciting  of  all  Indian  games  is »  one  in  vogue 
among  the  Comanches.  Two  leaders  choose  sides,  which  are 
seated  in  parallel  lines  opposite  each  other.  Every  body  makes 
his  or  her  bet,  depositing  the  stakes  between  the  two  companies. 
All  being  ready,  the  leader  of  one  side  rises  to  his  knees,  with 
the  gambling  bone  in  his  fingers.  Closing  his  hand  over  it,  he 
begins  a  swift  gesticulation,  and  presently  thrusts  his  hands  into 
those  of  one  of  his  neighbors.  He  may  either  give  the  latter 
the  bone  or  keep  it  himself,  but  in  either  case,  both  himself  and 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  995 

his  neighbor  keep  up  the  movement  of  the  hands  as  if  each 
one  had  it.  The  neighbor  repeats  the  trick  with  the  player 
next  to  him,  either  passing  or  keeping  the  bone,  and  so  on 
down  the  line  until  every  player  on  that  side  is  waving  his 
arms  and  hands  in  the  wildest  excitement,  apparently  passing 
the  bone  every  moment.  Meanwhile,  the  other  side  watches 
with  eager  eyes  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  the  article.  At 
last  some  one  thinks  he  detects  it,  and  points  at  a  hand,  which 
is  instantly  opened.  The  scoring  on  the  guess  is  the  same  as 
in  the  other  game,  twenty-one  points  being  the  limit. 

The  Cheyenne  women  have  a  game  of  their  own,  of  which 
they  are  passionately  fond.  A  string  of  beads,  twelve  inches 
long,  has  at  one  end  six  loops,  each  an  inch  in  diameter,  of 
small  beads.  On  the  main  string  are  strung  four  small  bones 
from  the  foot  of  a  bear,  in  each  of  which  are  four  rows  of  four 
holes  each.  At  each  end  of  the  bone  are  two  or  three  tiny  loops 
of  small  red  beads.  At  the  opposite  end  of  the  string  is  fast 
ened  a  long,  sharp  needle  of  wire,  six  inches  in  length.  A 
player  takes  the  needle  between  his  thumb  and  finger,  and  the 
game  is  to  throw  the  bones  forward  and  upward,  and  to  thrust 
the  needle  into  some  of  the  loops  or  perforations  in  the  bones. 
Each  particular  loop  and  perforation  has  a  different  value,  and 
when  caught  on  the  needle  counts  so  much,  it  being  possible  to 
make  six  hundred  at  a  single  throw,  which  is  of  course  a  very 
rare  occurrence.  The  game  is  two  thousand.  If  nothing  is 
caught,  nothing  counts. 

Naturally  enough,  gambling  is  accompanied  by  drunkenness. 
Many  Indians  fall  back  on  the  white  men  for  common  whisky, 
but  others  make  drinks  of  their  own  which  are  as  efficacious  as 
any  thing  in  the  world  for  producing  intoxication.  One  tribe 
makes  a  drink  from  the  Maguey  plant,  called  "  mescal."  Others 
make  "tizwin,"  a  drink  manufactured  from  fermented  corn.  A 
most  subtle  intoxicant  is  said  to  be  made  from  mare's  milk. 
The  Indian  way  of  getting  drunk  is  simply  to  drink  off  enough 
of  the  intoxicant  to  paralyze  him  at  once,  and  then  sneak 


996  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

away  to  some  spot,  where  he  can  sleep  for  many  hours  without 
disturbance. 

Gambling  and  drinking  are  by  no  means  the  only  amuse 
ments  of  the  winter  camp.  Story  telling  is  a  gift  which  always 
makes  its  owner  a  favorite  person  among  the  lodges.  Bucks , 
squaws,  and  children  crowd  the  teepe  in  which  he  may  ber 
listening  hour  after  hour  during  the  long  winter  evenings  to 
the  marvelous  yarns  which  he  makes  up  as  he  goes  along.  His 
story  is  both  filthy  and  pointless,  a  confused  jumble  of  men, 
animals,  and  mythical  monsters. 

On  fine  winter  days  the  men  and  boys  often  indulge  in  horse 
races.  The  Indian  rider  is  awkward  in  the  extreme.  His  stir 
rups  are  short,  his  back  humped,  his  head  thrust  forward  in  a 
ridiculous  position.  Yet  this  laughable  equestrian  will  pick  up 
a  small  coin  from  the  ground  when  his  horse  is  at  full  speed. 
Various  methods  of  racing  are  in  vogue.  Sometimes  it  simply 
consists  in  rushing  a  pony  at  full  speed  toward  a  tree,  the  one 
first  touching  it  being  winner.  The  same  method  is  sometimes 
employed  with  a  different  goal.  A  heavy  pole  is  set  up  horizon 
tally  about  six  feet  from  the  ground.  The  racers  dash  forward, 
regardless  of  life  or  limb.  If  one  stops  his  horse  too  soon,  he 
fails  to  touch  the  pole,  and  is  beaten ;  if  too  late,  his  horse 
passes  under  the  pole,  while  he  himself  is  caught  and  thrown 
heavily  backward  on  the  ground,  under  the  hoofs  of  the  ponies 
behind  him. 

In  a  third  kind  of  race  two  strips  of  buffalo  hide  are  fastened 
to  stakes  in  the  ground  about  eight  feet  apart.  The  racers  start 
from  a  point  two  hundred  yards  away,  jump  their  ponies  over 
the  first  strip,  stop  short  of  the  second,  and  get  back  to  the 
starting  place  as  quickly  as  possible.  The  Indians  give  great 
attention  to  racing.  In  contests  with  American  horses  the  small, 
wiry  pony  wins  in  a  race  of  a  few  hundred  yards,  but  for  a 
mile  or  two  the  long  stride  of  the  horse  makes  him  winner.  In 
races  of  more  than  three  miles  the  endurance  of  the  pony  again 
turns  the  scale  in  his  favor. 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  997 

Colonel  Dodge  tells  a  good  story  in  his  recent  work  on  "  Our 
Wild  Indians."  A  band  of  Comanches  encamped  near  Fort 
Chadbourne,  Texas.  Some  of  the  officers  in  the  fort  owned  fast 
horses,  the  speed  of  which  was  well  known,  and  bantered  the 
Indians  for  a  race.  After  two  or  three  days  of  chaffering,  the 
Indians  agreed  to  match  one  of  their  ponies  against  the  third 
best  horse  in  the  garrison,  distance  four  hundred  yards. 

"  The  Indians  bet  robes  and  plunder  of  various  kinds  to  the 
value  of  sixty  or  seventy  dollars  against  money,  flour,  sugar, 
etc.,  to  a  like  amount.  At  the  appointed  time  all  the  Indians 
and  most  of  the  garrison  were  assembled  at  the  track.  The 
Indians  "  showed  "  a  miserable  sheep  of  a  pony  with  legs  like 
churns.  A  three-inch  coat  of  rough  hair  stuck  out  all  over  the 
body,  and  a  general  expression  of  neglect,  helplessness,  and 
patient  suffering  struck  pity  into  the  hearts  of  all  beholders. 
The  rider  was  a  stalwart  buck  of  one  hundred  and  seventy 
pounds,  looking  big  and  strong  enough  to  carry  the  poor  beast 
on  his  shoulders.  He  was  armed  with  a  huge  club,  with  which, 
sifter  the  word  was  given,  he  belabored  the  miserable  animal 
from  start  to  finish.  To  the  astonishment  of  all  the  whites,  the 
Indian  won  by  a  neck. 

"Another  race  was  proposed  by  the  officers,  and,  after  much 
*  dickering,'  accepted  by  the  Indians  against  the  next  best  horse 
of  the  garrison.  The  bets  were  doubled ;  and  in  less  than  an 
hour  the  second  race  was  run  by  the  same  pony,  with  the 
same  apparent  exertion  and  with  exactly  the  same  result.  The 
officers,  thoroughly  disgusted,  proposed  a  third  race,  and  brought 
to  the  ground  a  magnificent  Kentucky  mare,  of  the  true  Lex 
ington  blood,  and  known  to  beat  the  best  of  the  others  at  least 
forty  yards  in  four  hundred.  The  Indians  accepted  the  race, 
and  not  only  doubled  bets  as  before,  but  piled  up  every  thing 
they  could  raise,  seemingly  almost  crazed  with  the  excitement 
of  their  previous  success.  The  riders  mounted;  the  word  was 
given.  Throwing  away  his  club,  the  Indian  rider  gave  a  whoop 
at  which  the  sheep-like  pony  pricked  up  his  ears  and  went  away 


998  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

like  the  wind,  almost  two  feet  to  the  mare's  one.  The  last  fifty 
yards  of  the  course  was  run  by  the  pony  with  the  rider  sitting 
face  to  his  tail,  making  hideous  grimaces  and  beckoning  to  the 
rider  of  the  mare  to  come  on. 

"  It  afterwards  transpired  that  the  old  sheep  was  a  trick  and 
straight  race  pony,  celebrated  among  all  the  tribes  of  the  south, 
and  that  the  Indians  had  only  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  the 
Kickapoos  in  the  Indian  nation,  whom  he  had  easily  cleaned 
out  of  six  hundred  ponies." 

The  Indian  carries  a  short,  stout  loop  of  raw-hide  at  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle,  which  forms  an  important  part  of  his 
outfit.  When  he  desires  to  throw  himself  on  the  side  of  his 
pony  opposite  an  enemy,  he  passes  this  loop  over  his  head  and 
under  the  arm,  and,  with  one  leg  still  thrown  over  the  saddle,  is 
as  completely  at  home  as  in  his  lodge,  having  both  hands  left 
free  with  which  to  use  his  bow  and  arrow.  The  women  ride 
astride  the  ponies  like  the  men. 

Before  coming  to  the  greatest  indoor  amusement  of  the  win 
ter  camp,  the  dance,  it  is  proper  to  speak  briefly  of  the  musical 
instrument  of  the  Indians.  The  drum  or  tom-tom  serves  them 
alike  as  fiddle,  brass  band,  pipe  organ,  and  jew's-harp.  Formerly 
it  consisted  of  a  piece  of  skin  stretched  over  a  section  cut  from 
the  trunk  of  a  hollow  tree,  but,  since  the  approach  of  civiliza 
tion,  the  empty  cheese  box,  with  the  skin  over  it,  has  driven  out 
all  other  rivals.  When  the  head  of  this  drum  gets  loose  it  is 
tightened  by  being  wet  and  held  over  the  fire,  which  is  always 
kept  burning  at  a  dance  for  this  special  purpose. 

The  songs  of  the  Indians,  which  accompany  all  their  ceremo 
nies  and  celebrations,  are  highly  characteristic.  The  tunes  are 
few  and  monotonous,  but  the  words  constantly  vary.  Every 
occasion  gives  rise  to  a  new  set  of  them.  A  band  of  warriors, 
returning  from  the  war-path,  regards  the  matter  of  embalming 
their  exploits  in  an  appropriate  song  as  one  of  the  highest  impor 
tance.  Many  evenings  on  the  way  home  are  spent  in  the  work 
of  its  composition,  each  man  proposing  a  line  and  the  whole 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  999 

testing  it  by  singing  in  chorus.  If  it  strikes  their  fastidious 
fancy,  it  is  adopted ;  otherwise,  another  line  is  tried,  and  so  on, 
until  one  is  found  which  suits. 

In  making  a  song,  a  great  number  of  sounds  without  meaning 
are  used  to  fill  out  the  measure.  An  illustration  of  this  is  the 
love-song  given  below,  sung  by  a  young  Cheyenne  warrior  to  a 
married  woman,  whom  he  courted : 

"  I  am  your  lover,  ha  ya,  ha  a  yah,  ha  yah, 
I  am  not  afraid  to  court  you,  ha  a  yah,  ha  yah, 
Though  you  have  a  brave  husband,  ha  yah  ha, 
Will  you  elope  with  me?  ha  yah,  ha  yah  ha." 

Her  answer  is  as  follows  : 

"  I  will  leave  my  husband,  hah  ha  ha  ha  ha  yoo, 
But  attend  to  what  I  say  to  you,  ha  ha  ha  ha  yo, 
You  must  be  good  to  me,  ha  ha,  yo  e, 
And  not  make  love  to  other  womn,  ha  yo,  ha  o." 

The  dance  among  civilized  communities  now  figures  simply 
as  an  amusement,  a  recreation.  Among  the  Indians  dances  are 
of  three  varieties.  First,  the  religious  dances,  the  incongru 
ity  of  which  is  not  so  great  when  we  remember  that  the  Israel 
ites  observed  the  same  rites.  Besides  this,  there  are  the  cere 
monial  dances ;  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  social  dance.  In  all 
of  these,  the  only  music  is  the  monotonous  thrum,  thrum  of  the 
tom-tom.  The  step  is  always  the  same.  It  consists  merely  of 
a  little  spring  on  the  balls  of  both  feet,  so  timed  that  one  jump 
is  made  to  each  beat  of  the  drum.  It  is  extremely  tiresome 
on  the  muscles  of  the  calves  of  the  legs,  but  an  Indian  will 
dance  until  daybreak,  six  nights  out  of  the  week,  and  never 
feel  it. 

All  Indian  tribes  have  a  great  religious  dance.  Among  the 
Cheyennes  this  is  known  as  the  "  H6ch-e-a-yum,"  or  "  Medicine 
Dance;"  among  the  Dakotahs  it  is  called  the  "Sun  Dance." 
The  Sioux  and  the  Seminoles,  of  Florida,  celebrated  this  dance 
at  the  season  when  the  tasseled  roas ting-ears  hung  amid  the 


1000  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

rustling  blades  of  the  Indian  corn;  hence,  it  was  known  as  the 
"green-corn  dance."  These  ceremonies,  among  manj  tribes,  are 
begun  with  processions  and  feasts  not  unlike  those  of  the 
ancient  Romans  or  of  the  Jews  themselves.  Each  tribe  has  at 
least  one  of  these  great  medicine  dances  each  year.  If  they 
can  afford  it,  sometimes  two  are  held.  The  medicine  man  of 
the  tribe  fixes  upon  the  time  and  place  where  the  great  dance 
is  to  be  held,  and  all  the  roving  bands  of  the  tribe  are  notified. 
The  scene  among  the  Cheyennes  is  by  no  means  unlike  that  of 
our  great  modern  camp-meetings.  H6ch-e-a-yum  means  "  the 
lodge  made  of  cottonwood  poles,"  while  the  word  applied  to  the 
dancers  signifies  "the  people  who  make  the  medicine  in  the 
lodge  of  cottonwood  poles." 

When  the  Indians  come  together  at  the  appointed  time  and 
place,  they  find  a  great  lodge,  capable  of  holding  several  hun 
dred  people,  of  which  the  sides  are  an  open  frame-work  of  cot 
tonwood  poles,  while  the  top  is  partly  or  wholly  covered  with 
skins  or  the  green  branches  of  trees.  In  the  center  of  the  lodge 
is  roped  off  a  circular  space,  some  twenty-five  feet  in  diameter,  for 
the  dancers.  Around  and  outside  of  this  is  another  space  of  a 
few  feet  for  the  guard,  and  the  remainder  of  the  lodge  is  for  the 
spectators.  When  all  is  ready  and  the  place  is  packed  with  a 
breathless  throng,  the  medicine  chief  advances  to  the  center 
with  great  solemnity  and  announces  the  names  of  the  warriors 
whom  he  has  chosen  for  the  dance.  The  number  of  these  is 
usually  one  to  every  one  hundred  persons  of  the  tribe.  When 
the  names  are  pronounced,  there  may  be  heard  the  suppressed 
sobs  of  some  of  the  squaws,  but  the  persons  most  concerned 
show  no  change  in  their  demeanor.  The  head  chief  also  selects 
an  equal  number  of  guards  for  the  dancers.  The  latter  are  noti 
fied  of  the  hour  when  the  dance  will  commence,  and  are  warned 
that  disgrace  and  death  will  be  lot  of  any  who  fail  to  appear. 

At  the  appointed  time  the  guard  takes  its  position  in  the 
space  roped  off  for  it,  and  a  moment  later  the  medicine  chief 
appears  at  the  head  of  the  file  of  warriors  who  are  to  take  part  in 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1001 

the  dance,  and  conducts  them  to  the  inner  circle  before  described. 
As  each  individual  in  the  scrambling,  struggling  crowd,  ablaze 
with  curiosity  and  eagerness,  strives  to  push  aside  or  see  over 
the  shoulder  of  his  neighbor,  he  discovers  the  dancers  either 
stripped  to  their  buckskin  leggings,  or  to  the  breech  cloth  itself. 
Each  holds  in  his  mouth  a  small  bone  whistle,  in  the  end  of 
which  is  placed  a  single  feather  from  the  chaparral  cock. 

Every  dancer  has  his  eyes  fixed  on  a  curious  little  image, 
black  on  one  side  to  represent  the  Bad  God,  and  white  on  the 
other  to  represent  the  Good  God,  which  is  suspended  from  the 
roof  just  over  the  center  of  the  circle.  The  group  of  dancers 
are  as  motionless  as  statues.  At  a  given  signal  each  begins  to 
sound  his  whistle  and  commences  the  monotonous  Indian  dance, 
moving  slowly  around  the  circle.  Inexperienced  dancers,  car 
ried  away  with  religious  fervor,  make  great  exertions,  but  the 
wiser  ones  husband  their  strength,  for  the  dance  is  to  go  on 
without  a  pause  for  sleep,  food,  or  drink ;  without  the  removal  of 
the  eyes  from  the  image,  or  the  cessation  even  momentarily  of  the 
sound  of  their  whistles,  not  merely  for  hours,  but  for  days. 

For  the  first  ten  or  twelve  hours,  the  scene  is  monotonous. 
But  in  time  it  begins  to  wear  a  different  aspect.  The  dancers 
show  signs  of  fatigue.  The  eyeballs,  still  turned  toward  the 
image,  grow  bloodshot  and  sunken.  The  head  dizzies  from  the 
rotary  motion  and  the  constant  expenditure  of  breath  in  the 
whistling.  Dense  throngs  of  excited  spectators  pack  the  lodge. 
The  friends  and  relations  of  the  dancers  shout  encouragement. 
The  place  is  filled  with  frightful  clamor. 

As  the  dance  continues  hour  after  hour,  some  of  the  younger 
dancers  fail  perceptibly.  Their  steps  no  longer  keep  time  with 
the  tom-tom.  Their  dancing  is  but  a  stagger.  Suddenly  one 
of  them  falls  to  the  ground.  The  air  is  rent  with  the  screams 
of  squaws.  The  friends  of  the  prostrate  dancer  make  a  rush 
toward  him,  but  are  thrust  back  by  the  guards.  They  drag  the 
body  out  of  the  inner  circle,  and  the  medicine  chief  proceeds  to 
cover  it  with  various  holy  paints.  This  is  expected  to  restore 


1002  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

the  unfortunate  to  consciousness,  but  frequently  the  open  air 
and  buckets  of  water  are  required.  When  he  revives,  it  lies 
with  the  stern  medicine  chief  to  say  whether  he  shall  continue 
the  dance  until  he  falls  again.  To  the  entreaties  and  tears  of 
the  squaws,  and  the  offers  of  ponies  and  buffalo  robes  by  the 
men,  he  returns  a  solemn  and  mysterious  shake  of  the  head. 
The  women  raise  their  screams,  and  the  men  their  bribes  until 
the  medicine  chief  usually  yields. 

While  this  dancer  is  carried  to  his  lodge  by  his  women,  the 
spectacle  in  the  great  lodge  continues.  One  by  one,  other 
dancers  fall  and  are  dragged  out,  either  to  be  excused  from  fur 
ther  toil  or  sent  back  into  the  ring,  at  the  whim  of  the  priest. 
It  proceeds  for  three  or  four  days,  some  of  the  poor,  deluded 
wretches  enduring  to  the  last.  If  there  are  no  deaths,  this  is 
"  good  medicine,"  and  the  camp  becomes  the  scene  of  festivity 
and  jollification.  If  on  the  other  hand,  some  of  the  dancers  fail 
to  revive  from  the  swoon,  the  assembly  becomes  a  pandemonium 
of  lamentation.  Amid  the  howls  of  their  companions,  the.  wives 
of  the  deceased  inflict  terrible  wounds  upon  themselves.  The 
dead  are  hastily  buried.  Near  their  graves  are  left  the  corpses 
of  several  horses  killed  for  their  use  in  the  happy  hunting 
grounds.  The  ponies  are  quickly  loaded,  the  lodges  torn  down, 
and  each  band  hurries  to  hide  itself  in  the  wilderness,  away 
from  the  wrath  of  the  Bad  God,  which  the  events  of  the  dance 
are  supposed  to  have  revealed. 

Though  the  above  description  is  written  in  the  present  tense, 
it  is  in  fact  historically  true  only  up  to  a  time  now  some  years 
gone  by.  Since  that  day  the  medicine  dance  has  undergone 
important  changes.  The  medicine  chief  is  no  longer  the  arbi 
ter  of  life  and  death.  He  neither  selects  the  dancers,  nor 
names  the  time  when  the  dance  shall  be  held.  The  great  relig 
ious  ceremony  is  now  left  either  under  the  control  of  the  coun 
cil  or  to  private  enterprise.  The  day  is  fixed  and  the  bands 
assemble  as  heretofore,  but  it  is  now  entirely  voluntary  with  a 
warrior  whether  he  enters  the  dance  at  all.  He  quits  when  he 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1003 

pleases,  and  some  do  not  enter  the  ring  until  the  second  or 
third  day.  Fashion,  vanity,  religious  zeal,  and  other  motives 
now  induce  nearly  all  the  warriors  to  enter  the  dance,  and,  as 
those  who  endure  the  longest  are  counted  the  best  men,  there 
is  little  change  in  the  horrible  features  of  the  affair.  Many 
endure  for  seventy-five  hours  without  sleep,  food,  drink,  or 
obedience  to  any  demand  of  nature,  maintaining  all  the  time  a 
constant  whistle,  and  pausing  not  a  moment  in  the  dance.  There 
are  other  ceremonies  connected  with  the  medicine  dance,  which 
we  will  describe  when  we  come  to  discuss  the  religion  of  the 
Indians. 

The  most  widely  known  of  the  Indian  dances  is  the  scalp- 
dance,  performed  by  the  warriors  who  took  scalps,  on  their  re 
turn  from  a  foray.  The  scalps  are  cleaned  and  stretched  on 
little  wooden  hoops,  the  hair  carefully  dressed,  and  then  each 
warrior  attaches  his  scalps  to  a  willow  stick.  These  sticks,  ten 
feet  long,  are  planted  in  the  ground,  and  the  warriors  of  the 
party  surround  them.  At  first  the  dance  and  accompanying 
song  is  slow  and  monotonous,  but  gradually  the  dancers  work 
themselves  up  into  a  terrific  frenzy.  Each  one  in  turn,  with 
many  contortions  and  leaps,  gives  an  exaggerated  account  of 
his  exploits  and  re-enacts  the  scenes  in  which  he  has  figured. 
These  are  followed  by  those  warriors  who  took  no  scalps,  ex 
plaining  why  they  failed,  describing  their  former  exploits,  and 
relating  what  they  intend  to  do  in  the  future.  By  the  time  the 
dancers  have  shown  what  valiant  warriors  they  are,  both  they 
and  the  whole  village  are  frantic  with  excitement.  When  new 
scalps  are  wanting  old  ones  are  brought  out  and  made  to  do 
duty  again  and  again. 

The  dances  heretofore  described  are  performed  almost  with 
out  clothing.  Far  different  are  others  in  which  each  warrior 
loads  himself  down  with  his  finery.  These  latter  are  slow  and 
stately  affairs,  but  are  immensely  popular  with  the  women,  who 
in  loud  voices  praise  or  criticise  the  costumes  of  the  dancers. 

There  yet  remains  for  us  to  mention  the  social  dance  of  the 

\ 
\      . 


1004 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


Indians,  which  constitutes  the  most  popular  amusement,  and 
affords  the  keenest  delight  of  the  winter  camp.  On  at  least 
five  evenings  in  the  week  the  squaws  listen  expectantly  at 
nightfall  for  the  beat  of  the  tom-tom  from  some  neighboring 


INDIAN  SCALP  DANCE. 

teepe.  No  other  invitation  is  given  and  none  needed.  The 
whole  town,  men,  women,  and  children,  come  together  very 
quickly.  If  the  occasion  is  a  special  one  two  teepes  are  pitched 
side  by  side,  and  the  flaps  lifted,  making  one  large  rooir...  The 
beds  and  furniture,  such  as  it  is,  are  hastily  gotten  rid  of,  and 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1005 

the  guests  seat  themselves  on  the  ground.  At  one  end  of  the 
tent  a  half  dozen  Indians  are  seated  around  a  big  tom-tom, 
pounding  away  at  it. 

There  is  much  chatter  and  frolic  as  the  crowd  arrives. 
Every  body  squeezes  as  close  to  the  sides  of  the  tent  as  pos 
sible  to  leave  room  for  the  dancing.  The  latter,  horrified,  as 
may  be  the  readers,  consists  simply  of  what  is  known  in  Amer 
ican  society  as  the  "  German,"  except  that  the  leader  is  a 
woman.  She  advances  to  some  man,  seizes  him,  and  the  two, 
with  arms  encircling  one  another,  dance  around  the  room  a  time 
or  two,  each  selecting  a  partner  of  the  opposite  sex.  This  being 
continued  by  each  couple  until  the  floor  is  crowded,  when  the 
music  ceases  and  all  return  to  their  seats.  The  figures  are  in 
numerable,  one  of  the  most  popular  being  known  as  the  "  kiss 
ing  dance,"  in  which  each  couple  deliberately  kiss.  Another  is 
the  eating  dance,  each  dancer  offering  something  to  eat  to  the 
chosen  partner.  The  tricks,  the  fun,  the  screams  of  laughter, 
the  uproarious  jokes,  are  beyond  description. 

The  Indian  is  intensely  religious.  His  faith  and  his  sacri 
fices  are  rarely  equaled  by  any  Christian.  As  far  as  their  beliefs 
can  be  ascertained,  the  more  intelligent  red  men  of  the  Plains 
believe  in  two  gods.  The  Good  God  is  for  some  unknown  rea 
son  the  friend  of  the  Indian.  He  brings  to  him  every  thing 
good  and  pleasant,  and  assists  him  in  his  undertakings  without 
being  asked  to  do  so,  because  he  does  the  best  he  can,  and  with 
out  being  thanked  for  it,  because  he  likes  to  do  these  things. 
For  an  equally  mysterious  reason  the  Bad  God  is  the  enemy 
of  the  Indian.  All  disease,  pain,  misfortune,  and  .suffering  come 
from  him.  The  prayers  of  the  Indians  are  always  addressed  to 
the  latter  deity,  urging  him  not  to  hurt  them.  These  two  gods, 
who  are  constantly  at  war  with  each  other,  control  this  world, 
but  not  the  next. 

All  Indians,  good  or  bad,  go  to  the  happy  hunting-grounds, 
unless  they  either  die  from  strangulation,  by  which  the  soul  is 
prevented  from  passing  out  through  the  mouth,  or  by  scalping, 


1006  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

which  means  annihilation.  Hence  the  Indian's  eagerness  to 
scalp  his  enemy.  If  this  is  not  done,  it  is  because  he  expects 
his  victim  to  be  his  slave  in  the  next  world.  The  most  mys 
terious  part  of  the  Indian's  religion  is  what  is  called  "medicine." 
This  singular  word  means  every  thing  and  nothing.  When  the 
young  Indian  becomes  a  warrior,  he  prepares  in  solitude  a  mix 
ture  of  earths,  ashes,  and  other  ingredients,  one  of  which  is  a 
secret  with  himself,  and  the  others  selected  by  his  father's  in 
struction.  From  the  color  of  the  mixture,  the  novice  firmly 
believes  that  he  can  tell  which  God  is  in  the  ascendant  over  him 
at  the  time.  If  the  medicine  be  good,  tiny  sacks  of  it  are  tied 
around  the  necks  of  the  warrior  and  his  family,  and  in  the  tail 
of  his  horse.  The  secret  ingredient  used  by  each  Indian  in  his 
"  medicine "  is  chosen  after  great  agonies  of  mind  and  body,  and 
is  always  carried  in  a  little  pouch  on  his  person. 

The  priest  of  the  Indian's  religion  is  the  "medicine  chief." 
He  has  acquired  the  position  by  laying  claim  to  the  discovery 
of  a  medicine  which  conteracts  the  power  of  the  Bad  God.  If 
in  battle  or  elsewhere  he  has  special  good  luck,  this  is  regarded 
as  a  demonstration  of  the  truth  of  his  claim.  He  holds  himself 
aloof  from  the  common  Indians,  and  has  charge  of  all  the 
religious  ceremonies  of  the  tribe.  His  duty  it  is  to  drive  off  bad 
spirits  and  to  propitiate  the  Bad  God.  The  religious  belief  of 
the  Indian,  that  disease  is  but  the  Bad  God's  influence,  naturally 
results  in  the  medicine  chief's  being  also  the  physician  of  his 
tribe,  combining  in  himself  the  duties  of  healer  both  of  soul 
and  body. 

The  secret  ceremonies  over  which  he  presides  are  but  little 
understood.  It  is  said,  however,  that  there  are  burnt  offerings 
of  meat  and  rice,  rude  pictures  in  charcoal  of  horses  and  buffalo, 
or  whatever  may  be  desired,  and  some  sort  of  incense.  At  these 
religious  ceremonies  no  squaw  or  other  person  not  a  warrior  is 
ever  permitted  to  be  present.  Dodge  asserts  that  the  Plains 
Indians  carry  with  them  a  small  thing,  which  is  the  object  of 
constant  religious  veneration.  It  is  hung  in  the  tent  of  the 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1007 

head  chief,  and  no  profane  eye  has  ever  looked  upon  it.  The 
thing,  which  may  be  nothing  more  than  a  bundle  of  arrows  or 
of  herbs  wrapped  in  skin,  and  deposited  in  a  small  trunk,  made 
for  the  purpose,  while  moving  about  over  the  country,  he 
says,  is  believed  to  be  the  visible  presence  of  the  Good  God, 
corresponding  to  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant.  He  relates  that 
once  when  the  Pawnees  captured  the  Holy  Bundle  from  the 
Cheyennes  the  latter  redeemed  it  with  three  hundred  ponies. 

On  the  occasions  of  the  great  "  Medicine  Dance,"  elsewhere 
described,  take  place  also  the  terrible  self-tortures  of  the  Indians. 
Formerly  every  candidate  for  the  rank  of  warrior  had  this  to 
undergo ;  now  it  is  voluntary.  This,  however,  has  not  lessened 
the  number  of  participants.  A  lodge  is  prepared  with  a  large 
pole  in  the  center.  The  volunteers  come  in  one  by  one,  are 
examined  by  the  medicine  chief  and  other  head  men,  who  dis 
cuss  his  powers  of  endurance.  After  various  performances,  the 
chief  takes  a  keen  knife  and  makes  two  deep  incisions,  three 
inches  long  and  two  inches  apart,  in  the  muscles  of  each  breast  of 
the  victim.  The  flesh  between  these  slits  is  then  lifted,  a  large 
horse-hair  rope  inserted  and  tied  to  a  block  of  wood,  which  pre 
vents  it  from  slipping  out.  The  other  end  of  the  rope  is  then 
tied  to  the  top  of  the  pole  in  the  center  of  the  lodge. 

The  task  of  the  victim  is  to  remain  without  food  or  drink 
until  he  has  torn  himself  loose.  Sometimes  the  incisions  are 
made  in  the  back,  and  the  rope  attached  to  heavy,  movable 
objects,  usually  buffalo  skulls,  instead  of  to  the  pole;  at  other 
times  the  victim  is  hauled  six  or  eight  feet  from  the  ground, 
and  left  to  hang  until  his  own  weight  or  his  struggles  tears  him 
loose.  The  time  required  to  free  themselves  varies  greatly, 
some  tearing  themselves  loose  very  soon,  while  others  hang 
three  or  four  days  in  torment  until  the  decay  of  the  tissues 
comes  to  their  relief.  When  the  agony  is  ended,  his  wounds  are 
skillfully  dressed.  Should  he  at  any  time  in  the  ordeal  give 
any  expression  of  weakness,  he  is  at  once  released  and  driven 
off,  everlastingly  disgraced. 


1008  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

The  various  tribes  have  different  methods  for  the  burial  of 
the  dead.  Many  select  picturesque  spots,  and  place  the  burial 
case  in  the  branches  of  some  trees.  Others  build  a  platform, 
on  which  the  corpse  is  laid.  The  Utes  hide  it  in  graves  dug 
in  a  hill-side,  and  carefully  concealed.  For  a  certain  number 
of  days  supplies  of  food  and  water  are  left  at  the  burial-place 
for  the  use  of  the  dead  on  his  journey  to  the  happy  hunting- 
grounds.  The  mourning  of  the  relatives  of  the  deceased  is 
deep  and  terrible.  When  a  son  dies,  the  father,  stripped  naked, 
his  hair,  usually  dressed  with  such  care,  cut  off  and  disheveled, 
the  locks  scattered  about  the  lodge,  lies  prostrate  on  the  ground 
of  his  teepe  for  days  and  weeks,  refusing  nourishment,  and  giv 
ing  himself  over  to  the  most  sorrowful  lamentations.  Even  worse 
is  the  mourning  of  the  women  over  the  death  of  their  husbands. 
To  the  other  distresses  are  added  terrible  cuts  and  wounds, 
which  they  inflict  recklessly  "upon  their  persons. 

The  Indian's  notion  of  a  future  life  is  crude.  He  believes  it 
to  be  a  continuation  of  the  present  existence,  only  somewhat 
intensified.  He  expects  to  need  there  all  the  articles  which  he 
needs  here,  and  such  things  as  he  can  not  make  must  be  taken 
with  him.  Hence  it  is  that  he  is  buried  in  his  best  clothes 
and  finery,  and  the  tree  in  which  his  corpse  is  left  is  filled 
with  knives,  gun,  ammunition,  pistol,  and  other  articles.  If  an 
Indian  died  poor,  lacking  such  things,  the  band  at  once  supply 
his  grave  with  every  thing  lacking,  which  they  imagine  he  will 
need.  They  do  not  suppose  that  he  actually  takes  with  him 
the  real  gun,  knife,  and  pistol,  but  they  believe  that  if  these 
things  are  left  by  his  grave,  he  will  have  their  "  ghosts  "  in  the 
other  world.  These  articles  at  the  grave  of  a  deceased  Indian 
are  never  disturbed,  it  being  preferred  to  die  of  starvation  for 
want  of  means  to  kill  game  rather  than  touch  the  gun  and 
ammunition  thus  consecrated.  The  Indian  expects  to  ireet 
enemies  in  the  other  world,  and  his  notion  is  to  make  the  num 
ber  as  small  as  possible  by  taking  as  many  scalps  as  he  can 
here.  One  superstition  is,  that  a  brave  killed  in  the  darkness 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1009 

will  dwell  in  the  darkness  through  all  eternity,  a  belief  which 
has  saved  many  a  white  man's  camp  from  the  horrors  of  a 
night  attack. 

The  influence  of  the  whites  shows  itself  in  a  gradual  decay 
of  belief  among  the  Indians.  The  more  startling  superstitions 
inevitably  relax  their  hold  upon  their  minds.  Much  more 
marked,  however,  are  the  changes  brought  about  in  the  gov 
ernment  of  the  Indians.  Originally  the  office  of  head  chief  of 
the  tribe  was  hereditary,  as  were  also  those  of  the  sub-chiefs. 
As  the  chief  grew  old,  he  took  into  his  counsels  more  and  more 
his  most  promising  son,  who  inherited  his  father's  rank.  If  the 
head  chief  was  not  the  foremost  warrior  of  his  tribe,  the  council 
elected  a  war-chief.  This  individual,  chosen  for  his  ferocity, 
was  often  much  hated  in  times  of  peace,  but  on  the  war-path  he 
was  all  powerful. 

Little  by  little  the  influence  of  the  whites  has  broken  down 
the  old  system.  The  tribes  have  broken  up  into  petty  bands, 
each  recognizing  no  chief  but  its  leader.  Where  the  hereditary 
chiefs  have  been  friendly  to  the  United  States,  they  have  often 
lost  their  influence  over  their  people.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
United  States  has  frequently  deposed  one  chief  and  elevated 
another.  Red  Cloud,  the  leader  of  a  certain  hostile  branch  of 
Sioux,  derived  his  fame  from  his  hostility  to  the  whites,  many 
bands  rallying  around  this  leader.  Spotted  Tail,  a  warrior 
from  the  common  ranks,  was,  in  1876,  raised  to  the  position  of 
head  chief  of  the  Sioux.  He  is  intelligent,  and  a  firm  friend 
of  the  whites.  It  is  only  a  few  years  since  he  went  to  Wash 
ington  City,  and,  returning  to  his  people,  found  that  Big  Mouth, 
an  important  rival,  had  been  undermining  his  influence  with  the 
warriors,  and  was  the  head  of  a  growing  faction,  distinguished 
alike  by  hostility  toward  the  whites  and  toward  Spotted  Tail. 
The  latter,  on  his  return,  put  himself  in  possession  of  the  facts, 
took  counsel  of  no  one,  but  summoning  two  confidential  friends, 
repaired  to  the  lodge  of  Big  Mouth.  His  face  wore  a  look  of 
singular  resolve  and  determination.  Calling  Big  Mouth  out  of 


1010  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

his  lodge,  Spotted  Tail  suddenly  presented  a  revolver,  and  shot 
his  rival  through  the  heart. 

The  decline  of  the  office  of  hereditary  chief,  of  course,  led 
to  the  disintegration  of  each  tribe  into  separate  bands.  For 
merly  it  was  almost  worth  an  Indian's  life,  as  well  as  those  of 
his  family,  to  desert  from  one  sub-chief  to  another.  If  caught 
in  the  act  the  penalty  was  spoliation  and  death.  If,  however, 
he  succeeded  in  consummating  the  change,  he  was  safe.  When  the 
tribes  were  placed  together  on  reservations,  these  opportunities 
for  desertion  became  so  great  that  the  various  sub-chiefs  laid  aside 
the  character  of  tyrants  and  assumed  that  of  the  cross-roads  poli 
tician,  using  every  art  and  policy  to  retain  their  followers. 

Formerly,  in  the  days  of  the  despotism  of  the  chiefs  and 
sub-chiefs,  there  existed  among  the  Indians  some  restraints 
against  crime  and  disorder.  Petty  infractions  of  tribal  disci 
pline  were  promptly  complained  of  to  the  chief  and  as  promptly 
punished  by  a  fine,  payable  to  the  injured  person;  a  penalty 
which  the  men  never  failed  to  enforce.  More  serious  offenses 
had  to  be  atoned  for  by  religious  sacrifices  and  self-torture. 
The  great  law  of  retaliation  was,  however,  the  principle  preven 
tive  of  grave  crimes.  A  murder  was  always  avenged  by  the 
relatives  of  the  dead  man,  the  family  having  the  right  and 
always  exercising  it,  of  killing  the  murderer.  One  death  often 
led  to  others ;  and  the  dark,  unwritten  history  of  family  feuds 
among  the  Indians  is  a  vista  of  violence  and  bloodshed. 

As  may  be  supposed,  contact  with  the  whites,  leading  to 
the  decline  of  religion,  and  of  the  system  of  tribal  government 
through  despotic  chiefs  and  sub-chiefs,  weakened,  and  to  a  great 
extent  destroyed,  the  restraint  upon  crime.  The  Indian  agent, 
who  lives  with  each  tribe  on  its  reservation,  thinks  it  his  duty 
to  imprison  any  Indian  who  may  be  rash  enough  to  avenge  his 
own  injuries  under  the  natural  law  of  retaliation.  The  chiefs 
no  longer  venture,  as  before,  to  levy  fines,  lest  their  followers 
desert  them ;  and  religious  expiation  has  decayed  with  the 
religion  itself. 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1011 

While  the  United  States  have  thus  undermined  and  destroyed 
the  Indians'  own  laws  and  government,  it  has  afforded  no  sub 
stitute.  By  the  "treaty  system"  each  tribe  has  been  negotiated 
with  as  an  independent  nation.  Its  members  are  not  regarded 
as  citizens,  nor  subject  to  the  laws  of  the  United  States.  Dodge 
gives  an  illustration  of  the  evils  of  this  state  of  affairs.  One 
day  in  November,  1880,  Stone  Calf,  a  prominent  and  intelligent 
Cheyenne  chief,  came  to  him  with  a  complaint.  His  favorite 
child,  a  little  girl  of  thirteen  years,  had  been  sent  to  a  camp 
seven  miles  away,  with  a  message  from  her  father.  She  was 
accompanied  by  another  girl.  On  their  return  home,  a  stalwart 
ruffian,  of  Stone  Calf's  tribe,  sprang  out  of  a  ravine,  seized  the 
horse  of  Stone  Calf's  daughter,  and,  pointing  a  revolver  at  the 
other  girl,  told  her  to  leave,  which  she  did.  The  ruffian  then 
took  the  maiden  to  his  lodge,  subjected  her  to  frightful  out 
rages  ;  and  then,  becoming  fearful  of  Stone  Calf's  revenge,  hid 
himself  and  the  girl  in  a  thicket.  At  night  he  took  the  girl 
with  him  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  military  post,  and  leaving 
her  at  a  certain  point,  went  to  look  for  Stone  Calf.  In  his  ab 
sence  the  girl  escaped  to  her  father. 

On  the  following  morning  the  heart-broken  chief  repaired  to 
Colonel  Dodge,  in  command  of  the  military  post,  and  begged 
for  help.  He  said  that  if  he  killed  the  scoundrel  according  to 
the  law  of  his  own  people,  the  agent  would  imprison  him  in  the 
guard-house,  and  when  he  got  out  not  only  his  one  daughter, 
but  his  wives  and  family  would  be  outraged  or  stolen.  The  com 
mandant  told  the  father  that  there  was  no  law  of  the  white  men 
for  the  government  of  the  Indians  or  the  punishment  of  the 
criminal.  When  the  old  man  had  the  matter  fully  explained 
to  him,  he  turned  his  face,  quivering  with  anguish,  toward  the 
commandant,  and  in  a  trembling  and  sorrowful  voice,  said :  "  I 
am  sick  of  the  Indian  road;  it  is  not  good."  There  was  a  mo 
ment's  pause,  then  he  added  pitifully,  "  I  hope  the  Good  God 
will  give  us  the  white  man's  road  before  we  are  all  destroyed." 

When  Major   Rogers,  the   captain   of  the  famous  Rangers, 


1012  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

whose  exploits  are  related  in  an  early  chapter  of  this  book, 
returned  to  England  after  the  close  of  the  Old  French  War,  he 
laid  aside  the  sword  for  the  pen,  and  wrote  and  published  a 
drama,  illustrative  of  the  dealings  of  Dutch  and  British  traders 
with  the  Indians  of  America.  It  was  entitled  "  Ponteach,  or  the 
Savages,  of  America.  A  Tragedy."  In  the  first  scene,  McDole, 
an  old  trader,  instructs  a  novice : 

"  Our  fundamental  maxim,  then,  is  this, 

That  it  is  no  crime  to  cheat  and  gull  an  Indian. 
*  *  *  * 

By  this  old  Ogden  built  his  stately  house, 

Purchased  estates  and  grew  a  little  king. 
He,  like  an  honest  man,  bought  all  by  weight, 

And  made  the  ignorant  savages  believe, 
That  his  Right  Foot  exactly  weighed  a  Pound." 

The  poet's  description  of  the  Indian  trader  is  as  true  now 
as  it  was  a  century  and  a  quarter  ago. 

The  Indian  intellect  can  never  grasp  the  idea  of  money  as  a 
measure  of  value.  The  trader  says,  "  I  will  give  you  ten  cents 
a  pound  for  your  deer-skins."  The  Indian  accepts,  sells  his 
skins,  and  asks  how  much  they  come  to.  This  learned,  he  asks 
the  price  of  some  calico,  and  is  told  "twenty-five  cents  a  yard." 
He  buys  the  calico  and  never  once  suspects  during  the  trans 
action  that  each  yard  of  calico  has  cost  him  two  and  a  half 
pounds  of  dressed  deer-skin. 

One  day  a  Sioux  Indian  came  into  a  military  post,  wearing 
a  splendid  buffalo  robe,  beautifully  ornamented  by  the  handi 
work  of  a  loving  squaw.  The  officers  of  the  post  made  many 
attempts  to  buy  the  robe,  which  was  of  rare  value,  offering  as 
much  as  twenty  dollars ;  but  every  negotiation  failed.  The 
Indian  said  he  did  not  want  to  sell  it.  A  shrewd  old  sergeant, 
familiar  with  Indian  character,  was  one  of  the  lookers-on  at  the 
transaction.  A  thought  struck  him,  and  he  quietly  slipped  away 
from  the  group  and  in  a  few  moments  re-appeared,  carrying  in 
his  hand  a  two-pound  package  of  loaf  sugar,  cut  into  small 
cubes,  which  are  so  convenient  for  dropping  into  our  coffee 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DA1:  1013 

cups.  He  gave  the  Indian  a  few  lumps  and  passed  on  care 
lessly.  In  a  moment  the  poor  savage  came  running  after  him, 
took  off  the  robe,  and  offered  it  for  the  paper  of  sugar.  The 
sergeant  was  not  slow  in  making  the  trade.  The  Indian  seized 
the  package  of  sugar  eagerly,  sat  right  down  on  the  ground  and 
slowly  ate  up  every  lump. 

A  similar  story  is  told  of  another  Indian,  whom,  if  he  had  not 
belonged  to  the  Lipans,  a  Texas  tribe,  we  would  think  was  a 
brother  of  the  above  savage.  The  incident  took  place  at  Fort 
Martin  Scott.  An  officer  took  from  his  pocket  a  small  box, 
opened  it,  removed  what  seemed  to  be  one  of  a  number  of  little 
sticks,  scratched  one  end  of  it  on  a  stone,  making  it  blaze,  and 
attempted  to  light  his  pipe.  Failing  in  this  attempt,  he  lighted 
another  and  another  until  successful.  The  Indian  looked  on 
with  wide-eyed  astonishment,  and  when  he  saw  the  smoke  issu 
ing  from  the  pipe,  hastily  ran  off,  and  in  a  few  moments  re 
turned  with  a  half  dozen  fine  skins,  which  he  offered  for  the 
wonderful  box.  The  exchange  was  made,  and  the  Indian  seated 
himself  on  a  stone,  and  with  the  solemnity  of  a  judge,  struck 
match  after  match,  holding  each  until  the  flame  burnt  his  fingers, 
when  he  would  utter  a  strong  "  Ouch  !"  only  to  repeat  the  pro 
cess-  until  the  matches  were  all  gone  and  his  fingers  covered 
with  blisters. 

It  is  not  wonderful  that  the  traders  fleece  such  victims.  The 
whole  mighty  department  of  Indian  trade  is  said  to  be  in  the 
control  of  a  ring.  Whether  this  be  true  or  not,  the  Indian  is 
literally  robbed.  Each  tribe  is  only  allowed  to  sell  their  stuff, 
and  to  buy  goods  of  some  single  trader,  licensed  by  the  govern 
ment.  "  The  Indian  brings  the  trader  a  lot  of  peltries,  and  is 
offered  in  trade  five  or  ten  per  cent  of  their  value.  He  need 
not  sell,  of  course.  If  he  does  not  choose  to  accept  the  trader's 
price,  he  can  take  his  peltries  back  with  him  to  his  camp.  There 
is  no  force,  no  persuasion  about  it.  But  if  he  does  not  sell  to 
this  trader  he  is  not  allowed  to  sell  at  all.  The  poor  devil, 
hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  accepts  the  situation  exactly  as  he 


1014  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

would  an  unavoidable  death  at  the  stake,  and  whatever  he  may 
think  on  the  subject,  makes  no  protest,  but  accepts  any  price 
offered  or  gives  any  asked,  without  murmur  or  question." 

The  military  posts  of  the  frontier  are  supplied  with  fuel  and 
nay  by  contractors,  who  employ  Indian  labor.  "A  short  time 
ago,"  writes  an  officer  at  one  of  these  posts,  "  I  was  told  by  an 
Indian  that  he  had  cut  twenty  cords  of  wood  for  a  contractor, 
for  which  he  was  to  receive  one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents 
per  cord.  The  wood  was  delivered,  and  he  received  an  order 
on  an  Indian  trader,  some  sixty  miles  away,  for  payment  of  the 
amount.  In  due  time  he  presented  the  order  and  was  paid  one 
pint  cup  of  brown  sugar  for  each  cord  of  wood  cut. 

"  Paul's  Valley  in  the  Chickasaw  Nation  is  one  of  the  garden 
spots  of  earth.  Thousands  of  bushels  of  corn  are  raised  by 
the  Indians  in  and  near  this  valley.  They  can  sell  only  to  the 
Indian  trader.  I  have  been  informed  that  the  average  price 
paid  the  Indians  is  fifteen  cents  per  bushel  in  goods  (three  to 
five  cents  in  cash).  This  corn  is  really  worth  there  over  one 
dollar  a  bushel  in  cash." 

Among  the  other  misfortunes  from  which  the  Indians  suffer, 
as  a  result  of  their  treatment  by  the  United  States,  is  that  of 
homesickness.  No  citizen  of  the  United  States  suffers  exile  on 
account  of  crime,  but  the  government  has  always  claimed  and 
exercised  the  right  to  remove  and  banish  peoples  with  whom 
they  have  treated  as  if  they  were  independent  nations  from 
their  own  country  in  perpetual  exile.  The  Indians,  banished 
from  warm  regions  to  cold  reservations  in  the  north,  or  from 
the  bracing  mountain  air  of  Oregon  and  Montana  to  the  sultry, 
sandy  plains  of  Indian  Territory,  suffer  in  body  and  in  spirit 
from  the  change.  The  older  members  of  the  tribe,  heart-broken, 
grow  weary  of  life,  and  become  willing  victims  to  every  chance 
disease.  The  Indians  understand  the  treatment  of  wounds  per 
fectly;  but  sickness  is  to  them  only  the  work  of  the  Bad  God. 
Consequently  almost  the  only  treatment  is  a  religious  pow-wow 
by  the  medicine  men,  who  howl,  sing,  dance,  and  beat  the  torn- 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1015 

torn  around  their  victim,  hour  after  hour,  and  day  after  day,  to 
frighten  away  the  Evil  Spirit. 

The  only  other  treatment  for  a  patient  is  the  use  of  what  is 
called  the  "  sweat  house."  On  the  bank  of  a  stream  is  built  a 
low  structure  of  stones  and  mud  six  feet  long,  four  or  five  feet 
wide,  and  two  feet  high.  A  fire  is  built  within,  and  when  the 
whole  is  thoroughly  heated  the  fire  and  ashes  are  raked  out; 
the  sick  warrior,  stripped  naked,  crawls  in,  and  the  opening  is 
closed  after  him.  Here  he  remains  as  long  as  he  can  endure 
it,  and  then  he  is  taken  out,  reeking  with  sweat,  and  plunged 
instantly  into  the  stream.  This  treatment  is  said  to  be  remark 
ably  beneficial  in  cases  of  rheumatism  and  fever.  It  is,  how 
ever,  fatal  to  the  small-pox  patient ;  yet  the  Indians  persist  in 
it  just  the  same  as  if  it  met  with  an  equally  uniform  success. 

Small-pox  is  the  most  dreaded  foe  of  the  red  man.  It  breaks 
out  without  discoverable  cause  in  isolated  bands,  separated  from 
every  human  being  by  hundreds  of  miles  of  wilderness.  When 
it  thus  attacks  a  camp,  those  who  are  yet  free  from  the  disease 
are  seized  with  the  wildest  terror,  and,  leaving  the  unfortunate 
sick  behind,  fly  in  all  directions.  Husbands  abandon  wives  and 
parents  children,  seeking  to  hide  themselves  in  the  unexplored 
wilderness  from  the  eye  of  the  Wicked  God.  Their  superstition 
is  not  unreasonable,  for  the  fearful  scourge  too  often  tracks  and 
follows  the  flying  savage  to  his  most  secret  hiding-place,  and 
there  having  cornered  its  victim,  never  abandons  him  until  it 
leaves  him  a  white  and  loathsome  corpse. 

When  on  his  death-bed  from  some  ordinary  wound  or  disease, 
the  Indian,  it  is  said,  will  cause  himself  to  be  dressed  in  his  best 
clothing,  call  his  friends  and  relatives  about  him,  distribute  his 
little  property,  and  await  the  end  with  the  calmness  of  a  phil 
osopher.  Sometimes,  with  his  latest  breath,  he  will  chant  his 
death-song.  At  other  times  he  will  drag  himself  away  to  some 
thicket,  whence  his  friends  shortly  carry  in  his  lifeless  body. 

Among  the  many  changes  which  must  be  noted  in  a  careful 
comparison  of  the  red  man  of  to-day  with  the  Indian  warrior 


1016  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

who  figures  in  the  books  of  border  warfare  none  are  more  strik 
ing  than  those  which  have  taken  place  in  his  weapons.  The 
bow  and  arrow  is  the  natural  arm  of  the  Indian.  In  the  use 
of  it  he  attains  remarkable  skill.  In  spite  of  this  skill,  as  well 
as  of  the  fact  that  a  warrior,  grasping  five  to  ten  arrows  in  his 
left  hand,  will  shoot  them  with  such  rapidity  that  the  last  will 
be  on  its  flight  before  the  first  touches  the  ground,  we  are  apt, 
when  we  remember  that  a  fatal  wound  can  not  be  inflicted  at  a 
distance  of  more  than  thirty  yards,  and  compare  this  with  the 
wonderful  repeating  rifles  of  the  present  day,  to  regard  the 
Indian  of  former  times,  with  his  bow  and  arrow,  as  scarcely  dan 
gerous.  In  fact,  however,  he  was  not  much  less  so  than  the  man 
armed  with  an  old-fashioned  blunderbuss  or  flint  and  steel  mus 
ket.  When  guns  were  first  procured  by  some  of  the  Indians,  they 
were  prized  chiefly  on  account  of  the  noise  they  made.  Until 
an  Indian  is  twenty-five  years  old,  he  has  even  yet,  except 
rarely,  no  other  weapon  than  the  bow.  The  finest  of  these  are 
made  of  pieces  of  elk  horn,  glued  together,  and  wrapped  with 
sinew.  In  damp  weather  it  is  almost  useless,  and  wooden  bows 
have  entirely  supplanted  it.  The  arrows  are  made  with  stone 
or  iron  heads.  The  war  arrow  has  its  head  very  slightly  at 
tached,  so  that  on  withdrawing  the  shaft,  it  may  remain  in  the 
wound. 

The  war  club  is  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  the  tomahawk, 
though  used  for  chopping  wood,  or  sometimes  as  an  ornament, 
is  no  longer  regarded  as  a  weapon.  The  scalping-knife  consists 
merely  of  a  good-sized  butcher-knife.  The  lance,  peculiar  to 
western  Indians,  is  also  being  laid  aside  since  the  introduction 
of  fire-arms. 

The  head-dress  of  a  warrior  is  often  relied  upon  by  him, 
not  only  to  elevate  him  among  his  own  people,  but  to  inspire 
his  enemy  with  terror.  It  consists  largely  of  a  greater  or 
less  number  of  eagle  feathers,  according  to  the  wealth  of  its 
wearer.  The  article  in  which  the  Indian  of  the  plains  takes  the 
greatest  pride  is  his  shield.  Its  ornamentation  is  made  the  sub- 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1017 

ject  of  years  of  anxious  thought  and  study.  It  is  his  "med 
icine,"  if  any  one  knows  what  that  means.  It  is  cared  for  far 
more  delicately  than  an  Indian  child,  and  is  almost  worshiped 
by  its  owner.  It  is  usually  a  double  thickness  of  the  neck  of 
a  buffalo  hide,  and  is  so  hard  as  to  turn  almost  any  rifle-ball. 

At  the  present  day  the  majority  of  the  warriors  are  the 
owners  of  good  rifles.  The  difference  in  caliber  occasions  them 
great  trouble,  but  they  have  a  way  of  reloading  empty  cartridge 
shells  by  forcing  percussion  caps  through  a  hole  in  the  bottom, 
and  filling  the  shell  with  powder  and  ball,  which  works  well. 

The  breech-loading  rifle  and  the  metallic  cartridges,  have 
transformed  the  Indian  from  a  foe,  dangerous  only  on  account  of 
his  stealth,  into  the  finest  natural  soldier  in  the  world.  He  re 
tains  many  of  his  old  resources  in  warfare.  His  night  attacks, 
his  ambushes  are  just  as  dangerous  as  in  the  days  of  Braddock. 
He  still  uses  the  signal  smoke  for  communicating  with  his  dis 
tant  brethren.  A  single  column  of  smoke  ascending  from  a  fire, 
on  which  is  thrown  some  damp  grass,  indicates  danger  to  all 
Indians  within  the  range  of  vision.  Two  columns  of  smoke 
ascending  at  the  same  time  indicate  something  else,  and  so  on. 
The  signals  are  further  varied  by  holding  a  blanket  above  the 
fire  till  the  smoke  collects  under  it,  then  slipping  the  blanket 
off  edgewise,  and  in  a  moment  replacing  it.  This  manipulation 
causes  the  smoke  to  ascend  in  round  puffs,  which  have  various 
meanings,  dependent  upon  their  number  and  frequency. 

The  Indian  scout  of  to-day  has  lost  none  of  the  qualities 
which  made  him  dangerous  to  the  settlers  of  the  Ohio  valley. 
His  endurance  is  just  as  great,  his  sagacity  just  as  keen  as  ever. 
What  to  the  officer  at  his  side  appear^  a  mere  speck  far  away 
on  the  crest  of  a  range  of  hills,  he  recognizes  as  a  scout,  and 
he  will  receive  and  interpret  a  communication  from  the  speck. 
The  brave  has  lost  none  of  his  skill  as  a  trailer.  He  will  fol 
low  a  flying  foe  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  through  the  wild 
est,  rocky  country,  over  ground  on  which,  to  the  inexpert  eye, 
not  a  mark  appears,  pressing  forward  at  a  full  gallop  and  rarely 


1018  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

dismounting.  In  the  night-time  he  will  follow  the  trail  by  feel 
ing  the  ground  with  his  fingers. 

In  battle  the  Indians  have  a  peculiar  cavalry  drill  which 
they  have  carefully  practiced.  At  first  view  this  drill  lacks 
uniformity;  but  presently  the  observer  will  discover  that  the 
wild  rushing  from  side  to  side,  the  sudden  collecting  into  a 
small  knot,  and  the  equally  rapid  scattering  in  all  directions 
over  the  plains,  are  not  aimless  movements,  but  are  all  maneu 
vers  performed  in  obedience  to  signals  from  the  chief.  These 
signals  consist  of  signs  imperceptible  to  any  white  man,  and  not 
understood  even  by  the  oldest  Indian  fighters. 

The  soldiers  of  the  regular  army,  whose  slender  line  has  for 
fifteen  years  been  extended  along  the  ragged  boundaries  of  our 
frontiers,  deserve  great  credit  for  what  they  have  accomplished. 
Sixteen  dollars  a  month,  with  rations  and  uniform,  is  not  much 
of  an  inducement  for  men  to  go  to  live  in  a  wilderness  and  be 
shot  at  by  Indians.  During  the  winter  he  is  little  more  than  a 
laborer.  His  horse  must  be  saved  all  exertion  and  cared  for  so 
as  to  be  in  proper  condition  for  the  following  summer.  There 
is  little  opportunity  for  cavalry  drill,  and  when  the  recruit  from 
eastern  cities  finds  himself  attacked  by  a  band  of  wild  Indians, 
who  have  devoted  all  their  lives  to  the  practice  of  the  arts  of 
warfare,  the  soldier  is  at  considerable  disadvantage.  The  change, 
which  the  introduction  of  the  breech-loading  rifle  has  made  in 
the  warfare  of  the  frontier,  an  innovation  which  reached  the 
soldiers  before  it  did  the  Indians,  but  has  since  spread  to  the 
latter  also,  is  illustrated  by  the  famous  engagement  known  as 
"  Powell's  Fight."  To  this  day  the  engagement  which,  was  but 
one  of  scores  which  have  been  fought  during  the  last  fifteen 
years,  is  known  among  the  Sioux  and  Cheyennes  as  the  "Med 
icine  Fight." 

The .  massacre  of  Fort  Phil  Kearney,  from  which  no  white 
man  returned  to  tell  the  tale,  gave  the  Indians  great  encourage 
ment.  Red  Cloud  and  his  Sioux  continued  for  months  to  har 
ass  the  little  garrison  which  remained  in  the  fort.  Encouraged 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1019 

by  his  success  in  cutting  off  the  main  command  outside  of  the 
fort,  and  in  preventing  a  single  stick  of  wood  or  load  of  hay 
from  going  into  the  place,  he  resolved  to  attack  the  fortification 
itself.  By  the  end  of  July,  1867,  Red  Cloud  advanced  on  the 
unhappy  post  at  the  head  of  three  thousand  warriors.  Since 
the  massacre  the  fort  had  been  supplied  by  the  government 
with  a  new  weapon,  never  before  seen  by  the  soldiers,  and 
utterly  unknown  to  the  Indians.  It  was  the  breech-loading 
rifle,  combining  long  range  and  deadly  accuracy  with  unprece 
dented  rapidity  in  firing. 

On  the  31st  of  July,  1867,  Major  James  Powell  left  Fort 
Phil  Kearney  with  fifty-two  men  to  re-enforce  some  laborers 
who  were  at  work  gathering  fuel  at  Piney  Island,  five  miles 
away.  Arrived  at  the  place,  Major  Powell  detailed  twelve  men 
to  protect  the  wood-choppers,  and  thirteen  more  to  escort  the 
wagons  on  their  way  to  the  fort.  In  addition  to  this,  fourteen 
wagon  beds,  made  of  boiler  iron,  sufficiently  heavy  to  turn  a 
bullet,  were  lifted  off  the  wheels  and  arranged  in  a  small  circle 
in  the  middle  of  a  plateau.  Between  every  alternate  wagon- 
bed  a  short  interval  was  left  to  enlarge  the  circle.  These  spaces 
were  filled  with  chains,  logs,  grain  sacks,  and  sticks  of  wood. 
On  the  most  exposed  side  of  this  fortified  corral,  two  other 
wagons  on  wheels  were  placed  at  a  little  distance.  The  work 
men  in  the  forest  were  instructed  in  case  of  an  attack  to  fly  at 
once  to  this  stronghold,  where  the  soldiers  maintained  a  vigi 
lant  watch. 

About  nine  o'clock,  on  the  morning  of  August  2d,  1867, 
seven  hundred  Indians  attacked  a  wagon-train  loaded  with  wood, 
and  advanced  with  such  suddenness  that  the  wood-choppers  were 
cut  off  from  retreat  to  the  corral  and  were  forced  to  fly  across 
the  mountain  to  the  fort.  The  Indians  at  once  turned  their 
attention  toward  the  curious  little  redoubt  out  on  the  level  pla 
teau.  Powell  ordered  his  men  to  lie  down  in  the  wagon-beds, 
the  sides  of  which  were  only  two  feet  high.  Over  the  men 
were  then  spread  blankets  and  bedding,  completely 'concealing 


1020  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCE*. 

•every  one  in  the  redoubt.  These  consisted  of  twenty-six  sol 
diers,  two  officers,  and  four  citizens.  In  the  sides  of  the  wagon- 
beds  were  holes  large  enough  to  fire  through. 

In  a  few  moments  eight  hundred  Indians  on  horseback 
dashed  across  the  plateau,  approaching  the  corral  from  all  sides. 
A  thousand  yards  away  rose  a  circular  range  of  low  hills,  on 
which  were  several  thousand  Indians,  men,  women,  and  chil 
dren,  under  Red  Cloud.  As  the  eight  hundred  horsemen  swept 
toward  the  corral,  the  dark  hosts  on  the  hills  were  spectators. 
Suddenly  the  low,  black  circle  on  the  plateau  blazed  with  fire. 
Numbers  of  the  Indians  fell.  As  the  warriors  continued  to 
approach,  their  ranks  were  thinned  by  the  continuous  firing  from 
the  corral,  which  possessed  a  continuity,  a  rapidity,  an  accuracy 
never  before  witnessed  by  the  Sioux.  Frightened  and  broken, 
the  warriors  quickly  checked  their  horses  and  fell  back,  leav 
ing  the  plain  dotted  with  the  corpses  of  their  friends.  Red 
Cloud  held  a  hurried  consultation  with  his  chiefs,  and  the  entire 
host  of  warriors  were  ordered  to  the  attack. 

Meanwhile,  Powell  was  quickly  readjusting  his  defenses. 
The  gun-barrels  had  become  overheated  from  the  rapid  firing. 
To  remedy  this,  spare  guns  were  placed  in  each  wagon.  Some 
of  the  men  were  poor  shots.  These  were  detailed  to  load 
the  guns  and  pass  them  forward  to  the  best  marksmen,  who 
were  to  do  the  firing.  Scarcely  had  these  arrangements  been 
made,  when  twenty-five  hundred  Indians  swarmed  down  from 
the  hillsides  and  approached  the  little,  black  circle  in  which 
not  a  single  human  being  was  to  be  seen,  and  yet  from  which, 
ten  minutes  before,  they  had  received  such  a  fire  as  they  had 
never  before  witnessed.  When  within  five  hundred  yards  of 
the  wagon-beds,  the  host  of  warriors  gave  a  mighty  shout  and 
started  forward  at  full  speed.  At  the  same  moment  a  terrible 
fire  from  the  corral  burst  forth. 

Heedless  of  their  slain,  the  Indians  rushed  on.  It  seemed 
that  the  survivors  swarming  forward  must,  in  a  moment  more, 
leap  over  the  tiny  barricade.  But  the  guns  of  the  white  men 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1021 

poured  forth  such  a  continuous  storm  of  rifle  balls  that  there 
seemed  to  be  no  reloading.  The  singular  corral  wore  the  appear 
ance  to  the  excited  Indians  of  an  infernal  machine.  To  them 
the  spot  seemed  to  be  inhabited  by  the  Bad  God  himself.  Again 
and  again  they  charged  upon  the  redoubt,  only  to  be  each  time 
broken,  discomfited,  and  driven  back.  At  the  end  of  three 
hours  Red  Cloud  decided  that  "  the  white  man  had  made  some 
medicine  guns  which  would  fire  all  the  time  without  any  human, 
agency." 

The  little  band  of  heroes,  looking  out  through  their  port 
holes,  saw  the  retreat  of  the  host  of  savages  to  the  hills.  Not 
less  than  three  or  four  hundred  of  their  number  were  dead  upon 
the  field.  Presently  isolated  warriors  could  be  seen  crawling- 
along  the  ground  till  they  came  within  range  of  the  corraL 
Each  one  carried  in  his  hand  the  end  of  a  long  rope.  Cov 
ering  himself  with  a  thick  shield  of  buffalo  hide,  which  pro 
tected  him  much  as  a  turtle-shell  does  its  occupant,  he  would 
crawl  to  the  nearest  corpse,  fasten  the  rope  around  the  anklesy 
and  then  retreat  in  the  same  way  he  had  advanced.  EL  com 
panions  would  drag  the  body  back  into  cover.  A  little  later,  a 
re-enforcement  of  a  hundred  men  arrived  from  the  fort.  Tha 
men  in  the  wagons,  of  whom  only  three  had  been  killed  and 
two  wounded,  at  once  prepared  to  retreat.  The  loss  of  the 
Indians  we  have  stated  to  have  been  three  or  four  hundred. 
This  was  the  estimate  of  the  white  men.  A  month  or  two  after 
ward,  a  Sioux  chief  told  Colonel  Dodge  that  their  actual  loss 
was  eleven  hundred  and  thirty-seven  kitted  and  wounded.  No  other 
such  Indian  fight  ever  took  place  on  the  continent. 

The  enormous  advantage  which  the  breech-loading  rifle  gave 
the  white  men  in  this  memorable  fight  now  no  longer  exists. 
The  Indians  have  these  weapons  themselves.  Hence  it  is  that 
the  Indian  wars  of  the  last  ten  years  have  been  far  bloodier 
than  any  preceding  ones. 

The  Indians  of  the  west  never  take  prisoners,  except  to> 
reserve  them  for  torture  and  death.  They  rarely,  if  ever,  bura 


1022  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

a  prisoner  at  the  stake,  a  custom  as  we  have  seen  common 
among  the  tribes  east  of  the  Mississippi.  The  Plains  Indians 
have  a  devilish  substitute  for  this  ceremony.  A  war  party  will 
lay  a  captive  on  his  back  on  the  ground.  His  outstretched 
arms  and  legs  are  tied  with  ropes  to  stout  pins  driven  down. 
The  fiends  then  build  a  little  fire  near  one  of  his  feet.  After 
a  time,  when  this  foot  is  burnt  to  a  coal,  they  build  a  fire  at  the 
other  foot.  From  time  to  time  others  are  built  near  the  legs, 
arms,  and  body.  The  victim,  stupid  with  agony,  nevertheless 
still  lives.  Last  of  all,  a  fire  is  built  on  his  breast,  and  kept  up 
until  the  coals  have  burnt  their  way  into  his  vitals  and  life 
becomes  extinct. 

Some  years  since,  a  little  drummer  boy  twelve  years  old 
was  captured  by  some  Indians  in  Texas.  The  squaws  tormented 
him  for  several  hours.  At  last  they  took  pine  splinters  and 
stuck  them  into  the  flesh  all  over  his  body.  The  splinters  were 
then  fired,  and  the  crowd  yelled  with  joy  at  his  sufferings.  His 
blackened  body'was  afterwards  found  by  the  soldiers. 

The  warrior  is  fond  of  capturing  a  woman.  If  she  is  at  all 
good  looking  she  will  command  three  or  four  times  as  many 
ponies  as  the  best  looking  Indian  girl  in  the  tribe.  Yet  in 
comparison  with  the  fate  for  which  she  is  reserved  the  torture 
fires  which  terminate  the  life  of  a  man  are  infinitely  preferable. 
For  the  first  few  days  she  becomes  the  common  property  of  the 
camp.  At  the  end  of  that  time  her  captor  takes  her  to  his 
lodge,  and  cares  for  her  as  his  most  valuable  piece  of  property. 
She  is  a  favorite  stake  at  the  gambling  table,  and  may  change 
masters  half  a  dozen  times  a  day.  Once  in  a  while  these  poor 
shattered  creatures  are  redeemed  by  the  government  at  an  enor 
mous  price.  When  redeemed  all  trace  of  their  former  beauty 
and  cleanliness  is  gone  from  the  naked,  filthy,  and  emaciated 
creatures. 

The  Indian  pony,  his  master's  most  faithful  and  valuable  serv 
ant,  and  for  which  a  warrior  will  often  give  his  favorite  wife, 
deserves  an  honorable  mention.  He  is  less  than  fourteen  hands 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1023 

high,  of  slight  build  and  scrubby  appearance.  He  receives  no 
attention  whatever,  is  neither  stabled,  curried,  shod,  nor  fed. 
After  a  hard  day's  work  under  the  saddle,  which  in  all  proba 
bility  wears  .great  sores  in  his  back,  he  is  simply  turned  out 
to  grass.  In  winter  he  becomes  almost  a  skeleton.  He  is 
exposed  to  the  terrible  storms  of  the  plains,  he  stands  much  of 
the  time  up  to  his  middle  in  snow;  his  food  consists  largely  of 
sticks  and  bark,  and  altogether  he  is  as  forlorn  and  miserable  an 
object  as  was  ever  looked  upon.  When  summer  comes,  he  fares 
much  better,  and  is  able  to  bear  his  rider  over  a  rough  country, 
without  roads,  fifty  miles  a  day,  for  six  months,  without  losing 
his  fire  and  edge. 

Among  many  better  citizens,  the  wild  life  of  the  frontiers 
also  attracts  some  of  the  worst  elements  of  civilized  sp^ic-iy. 
The  noble  and  hardy  race  of  trappers  is  about  gons.  In  their 
stead  have  come,  thieves,  cut- throats,  escaped  criminals,  refugees 
from  justice,  thugs,  and  whisky  sellers.  Some  of  these  have 
gone  to  dwell  among  the  Indians.  They  are  called  "squaw 
men."  Lazy,  filthy,  and  vicious,  they  are  supported  by  the 
labors  of  their  squawg,  and  draw  rations  from  the  government 
like  other  savagos.  Their  influence  over  the  Indians  is  most 
baleful.  They  prostitute  the  women,  and  abandon  them  and 

if  children  whenever  they  please. 

Not  less  pernicious  is  the  influence  of  the  traders,  who,  with 
a  keg  of  vile  whisky  on  the  back  of  a  pony,  thread  their  way 
among  the  Indians  on  their  reservations,  debauching  the  poor 
savages,  and  cheating  them  out  of  their  furs  and  skins  by  pan 
dering  to  their  basest  appetites.  Yet  another  class  of  borderers 
,  are  those  who  raise  cattle,  become  wealthy,  and  return  to  the 
The  desperado,  too,  flourishes  on  the  frontiers.  With 
him,  assassination  gets  to  be  a  mania.  He  carries  a  whole 
arsenal  of  arms  about  him,  shoots  without  provocation,  not  at 
Indians  merely,  but  for  mere  sport,  at  his  best  friends.  A  gen- 

ian  recently  in  the  west,  rode  in  a  passenger  car  in  which 
before  a  party  of  roughs  had  had  a  little  "  argument." 


1024  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

Forty-nine  bullets  were  buried  in  the  walls  and  roof  of  the 
coach.  One  of  this  class  had  been  east  and  returned  wearing  a 
plug  hat.  When  he  left  the  train  his  friends  in  the  town  caught 
sight  of  the  offensive  hat,  drew  their  revolvers,  and  in  less  than 
a  minute  thirty-one  shots  had  been  fired  through  its  crown, 
while  it  still  rested  on  the  head  of  its  smiling  wearer.  Without 
doubt,  though,  many  of  these  fierce-mannered  fellows  are  at 
heart  noble  and  true  men. 

There  are  west  of  the  Mississippi  one  hundred  and  two  dif 
ferent  Indian  reservations,  with  a  population  of  about  two  hun 
dred  and  twenty-five  thousand.  These  are  under  the  charge 
of  the  Indian  agents  of  the  government.  A  small  number  of 
Indians  in  Arizona  and  elsewhere  are  not  in  charge  of  these 
ligeiiizy-  The  plundering  and  pilfering  to  which  the  Indians  are 
subjected  has  not  been  more  than  hinted  at.  The  United  States 
in  its  treaties  always  guarantees  that  white  men  shall  be  kept 
out  of  the  reservations.  ^Tfeis  provision  is  continually  and  shame 
lessly  violati&i.  ^Another  monstrous  iniquity  is  the  fact  that  the 
Indians  on  the  reservations  are  being  continually  moved  about 
from  one  place  to,  another.  They  have  nO  property  in  the  soil 
which  the  law  respects.  The  great  cry  is  that  the  Indians 
should  settle  down  and  go  to  farming.  What  wbite  man  is 
there  who  would  make  a  farm  in  a  wilderness,  when  he  knows 
he  may  be  ejected  before  he  gathers  his  first  crop  ?  Yet  tie- 
only  condition  on  which  an  Indian  can  get  land  for  himself  is 
to  break  the  ties  of  kindred  and  friendship,  leave  his  tribe,  and 
take  land  under  the  pre-emption  and  homestead  laws.  This  is 
but  a  joke,  for  very  few  Indians  could  raise  money  to  pay  the 
fees  necessary  for  the  purpose. 

An  elaborate  discussion  of  the  "  Indian  question "  would  be 
out  of  place  in  this  book.  Yet  it  would  be  wrong  to  dismiss 
the  subject  forever  without  a  word  on  the  practical  problem  pre 
sented.  Questions  of  race  are  the  most  difficult  ones  which  ever 
confront  the  statesman.  Such  was  the  Negro  question.  Such 
is  the  Chinese  question.  Such,  also,  is  the  Indian  question. 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1025 

It  is  clear  that  one  of  two  destinies  awaits  the  Indian — 
extermination  or  civilization.  The  frontiersman  cries  aloud  for 
the  former.  The  writer  has  before  him  a  letter  from  an  old 
friend,  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  just  received  from  Globe,  Ari 
zona,  where  he  lives.  For  a  year  and  a  half  a  terrible  Indian 
war  has  been  raging  in  the  locality.  Nine  of  his  neighbors  have 
just  been  butchered  in  cold  blood.  The  letter  trembles  with 
rage.  It  is  dripping,  as  it  were,  with  blood.  This  minister  of 
the  Gospel  of  Peace  calls  aloud  for  the  extermination  of  the 
murderous  Apache  race.  He  declares  them  to  be  incapable  of 
civilization.  This  is  a  cry  from  the  frontier.  It  has  some 
justice  in  it.  On  the  other  hand,  the  press  is  flooded  with  pub 
lications  from  sentimentalists,  who,  far  away  from  the  scene  of 
slaughter,  weep  over  the  wrongs  of  the  red  man,  over  violated 
treaties,  over  natural  rights,  and  bitter  exile.  They  talk  of 
patriotism.  They  quote  the  speeches  of  Indian  chieftains. 
They  recount  the  robbery,  the  murder,  the  outrage,  to  which 
the  Indians  have  been  constantly  subjected  since  the  advent  of 
the  white  man  on  this  continent.  There  is  also  some  justice 
in  all  this. 

So  both  of  these  parties  have  some  truth  on  their  side.  It 
must  be  admitted  that  the  Indians,  with  here  and  there  a  few 
noble  exceptions,  are  by  nature  cruel,  deceitful,  ferocious,  and 
blood-thirsty.  Yet  so  were  our  own  ancestors.  The  ancient 
Gaul,  the  Celt,  the  Dane,  the  Saxon,  was  just  as  much  of  a  beast, 
just  as  blood-thirsty,  just  as  cruel  as  the  Indians.  Whoever 
reads  history  knows  this  to  be  a  fact.  The  farther  back  we  go, 
the  worse  our  ancestors  become.  If  some  of  the  races  seem,  at 
their  worst,  to  have  been  better  than  the  Indian,  it  is  because 
the  history  we  have  of  them  does  not  go  back  far  enough. 

The  pages  of  this  book  contain  accounts  of  no.  "  medicine 
man"  whose  cruelty  equals  that  of  the  Druids,  who  worshiped 
long  ago  with  dark  and  bloody  rites  in  the  forest  temples  of 
early  France.  The  wild  savages  who  peopled  ancient  Britain 
were  a  race  far  inferior  to  the  Indian.  The  huge  warriors  of 

58 


1026  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

northern  Europe  have  no  advantage  in  a  comparison  with  the 
nobler  tribes  of  the  Red  Man.  The  bloody  feuds  of  the  inhab 
itants  of  early  England,  which  the  historian  denominates  wars 
between  rival  kingdoms,  are  not  so  much  better  than  the  wars 
of  the  Indians,  after  all.  They  had  few  historians  and  no  bor 
der  chroniclers  to  hand  down  vivid  pictures  of  the  black  and 
bloody  struggles,  as  we  have  had  in  America,  but  the  student 
of  history  will  read  between  the  lines.  It  is  to  be  remembered, 
also,  that  the  Indians  have  neither  literature  nor  historians  of 
their  own.  Their  history  has  been  written  by  their  enemies. 
When  accounts  of  Indian  outrages  flash  over  the  wires,  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that  the  red  men  have  no  access  to  the  tele 
graph  to  tell  their  side  of  the  story.  The  historians  of  border 
warfare  were  themselves  combatants ;  they  wrote  while  the 
rage  and  frenzy  of  the  conflict  was  upon  them.  The  warriors 
)f  King  Philip,  who  were  painted  by  the  New  England  imag 
ination  as  infernal  fiends,  fled  to  the  far  West  and  joined  La 
Salle,  who  found  them  kind,  faithful,  intelligent,  his  most  trusty 
followers:  Actual  experiment  shows,  too,  that  Indians  are  cap- 
tble  of  civilization. 

That  the  policy  of  the  United  States  toward  the  red  man 
tas  been  a  huge  failure,  so  far  as  accomplishing  their  civiliza 
tion   is    concerned,  must  be   admitted.     This    policy   has   been 
founded  on  a  colossal  blunder — the  treating  with  Indian  tribes 
if  they  were  independent  nations.     Nearly  every  Indian  war 
the  history  of  this  country  can  be  traced  to  these  treaties 
rhich  were  never  meant  to  be  kept  by  the  white  men,  or  if 
iey   were,  the  impossibility  of   keeping   was   demonstrated  a 
Lundred  years  ago.     It  is  the  commonest  principle  of  law,  that 
ie  violation  of  an  agreement  by  one  party  is  a  release  of  the 
other.     Yet  the  government,  in  spite  of  its  own  flagrant  viola 
tions  of  treaty  faith,  has  uniformly  made  these  treaties  excuses 
for  the   exile   of  the  tribes.     The   very  organization  of  Indian 
tribes  itself  precluded  honest  treaties.     There  was  no  legitimate 
treaty-making  power.     A  few  chiefs,  dazzled  with  presents  and 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1027 

drunk  with  liquor,  signed  agreements  which  the  savage  hands, 
by  the  customs  of  their  people,  were  not  bound  to  recognize. 

Yet  one  blunder  led  to  others.  What  is  the  legal  status  of 
the  Indians  on  the  reservations  ?  Are  they  prisoners  of  war  ? 
It  looks  much  that  way.  But  even  prisoners  of  war  are  enti 
tled  to  protection  under  the  laws  of  their  captors.  Within  the 
reservations  there  is  no  law  except  the  savage  law  of  the  tribes 
themselves.  Are  they,  then,  independent  nations  ?  What  a 
huge  fiction!  What  a  monstrous  contradiction!  Startling  is 
the  contrast  between  the  Indian  tribes  of  the  United  States  and 
of  the  British  Dominion.  We  have  spent  millions  of  money  and 
sacrificed  thousands  of  brave  men  in  a  warfare  of  extermination. 
Great  Britain  has  done  neither. 

With  us  the  Indian  problem  is  still  unsettled.  The  con 
science  of  the  country  cries  out  against  the  outrages  perpe 
trated  on  the  unhappy  savages  in  the  name  of  civilization. 
The  "Indian  problem"  never  arose  in  Great  Britain.  She  has 
simply  called  the  Indians  subjects  of  the  queen,  and  amenable 
to  ordinary  civil  laws  and  criminal  courts  for  bad  behavior. 
We  call  the  Indian  tribes  independent  nations,  and  place  them 
outside  of  the  pale  of  our  own  laws  while  destroying  their  own. 
An  Indian  commits  an  outrage,  a  crime.  There  is  no  law  to 
punish  him,  except  under  the  crude  and  irregular  penalties 
which  the  military  inflict  in  time  of  war  on  such  captives  as 
fall  into  their  hands. 

The  problem  is  complicated  enough  at  best.  The  Indians 
refuse  to  learn  the  English  language.  This  forever  isolates  them 
from  the  influences  of  civilization.  Their  own  institutions  and 
education,  handed  down  by  the  law  of  inheritance  from  an  antiq 
uity  of  unknown  duration,  teach  that  manual  labor  is  disgrace 
ful.  "  Extremes  meet "  is  a  maxim  illustrated  by  the  fact  that 
the  higher  our  civilization  the  more  widely  this  same  sentiment 
of  the  disgrace  attaching  to  physical  labor  prevails. 

So  long  as  the  tribal  relation  continues  among  the  Indians, 
communism  in  property,  including  wives,  will  also  continue. 


1028  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

How  immensely  important,  therefore,  that  the  government, 
instead  of  driving  the  red  men  from  one  reservation  to  another 
in  response  to  the  greed  of  white  emigrants,  should  allot  them 
ample  territories  which  they  should  own  absolutely,  and  care 
fully  encourage  each  Indian  to  feel  that  in  taking  a  tract  to 
himself  in  severalty  and  making  a  farm  he  is  making,  not  only 
a  permanent  home  for  himself,  but  an  inheritance  for  his  chil 
dren.  It  is  right,  too,  that  the  Indians  should  be  taught  to  feel 
that  they  have  a  share  in  our  government.  "At  this  moment, 
the  Creeks,  Cherokees,  Chickasaws,  Choctaws,  the  remnants  of 
the  Six  Nations  in  New  York,  the  Pueblos  of  New  Mexico  and 
Arizona,  are  as  fit  for  citizenship  as  the  average  white  immigrant 
or  negro  voter." 

Of  our  prisoners  of  war  on  the  reservations  are  expected  the 
most  unreasonable  things.  In  localities  so  dry  that  no  crop  can 
ever  be  raised,  they  are  expected  to  become  all  at  once  good 
farmers.  The  enormous  appropriations  of  Congress  for  their 
support  are  largely  squandered  or  misapplied  by  corrupt  officials 
through  manipulation  of  the  "trade"  with  the  Indians.  One 
tribe  was  promised  in  a  treaty  so  many  pounds  of  beef  a  year. 
Congress  appropriates  the  same  amount  of  money  each  year  for 
this  purpose.  But  the  price  of  beef  rises.  The  appropriation 
falls  far  short  of  buying  the  requisite  number  of  pounds.  The 
Indians,  who  are  left  to  starve,  look  on  this  as  intentional 
robbery. 

The  problem  of  supplying  the  Indians  with  food  excites 
much  difference.  The  late  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  thought 
that  it  was  pernicious;  that  lazy  Indians  were  made  still  lazier 
by  feeling  that  the  government  owed  them  a  living,  and  idle 
ness  is  the  great  source  of  Indian  mischief.  He  thought  that  it 
would  spoil  white  men  to  care  for  them  in  this  way;  hence, 
he  reasoned,  how  far  short  would  this  policy  fall  of  civilizing 
the  Indians  and  teaching  habits  of  industry,  virtue,  and  self- 
support. 

Theoretically  this  is  right.     But  like  many  another  proposi- 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1029 

tion,  logical  in  theory,  the  illogical  reverse  works  better  in  prac 
tice.  The  natural  food  of  the  Indians,  the  buffalo  and  wild 
game  generally,  has  been  destroyed  by  the  white  men.  The  red 
men  themselves  have  been  violently  transplanted  to  reservations 
where  they  are  virtually  prisoners  of  war.  Humanity  cries  out 
against  starving  a  prisoner.  Even  experienced  farmers  would 
find  it  difficult  to  subsist  in  a  wilderness,  without  food  and  tools 
for  farming  obtained  from  other  sources,  until  they  got  the  farm 
started.  How  much  more  difficult  for  the  proud  and  lazy  war 
rior,  whose  fathers  for  countless  generations  never  put  their 
hands  to  a  plow-handle,  but  spent  their  lives  amid  the  excite 
ments  of  the  chase  or  the  war-path.  Besides,  hungry  Indians  are 
dangerous.  Starvation  transforms  the  most  peaceable  man  into 
a  devil,  mad  with  the  wild  insanity  of  hunger.  So  the  govern 
ment,  it  seems,  ought  to  feed  the  Indians  for  the  present,  care 
fully  keeping  in  view  the  end  of  their  ultimate  self-support. 

It  is  a  mere  question  of  time  until  the  white  men  over 
run  Indian  Territory  and  the  other  reservations,  as  they  have 
done  all  previous  ones.  Not  less  than  a  dozen  railroads  apply 
to  the  Interior  Department  and  obtain  rights  of  way  through 
these  reservations  every  year.  First  comes  the  army  of  track- 
builders,  then  stations  spring  up,  with  depot  and  telegraph 
agents,  postmaster,  express  agent,  and  switchmen.  These  men 
have  families.  A  store  is  opened.  A  blacksmith  shop  is  built. 
From  every  passenger-train  disembark  explorers,  sight-seers, 
speculators,  emigrants.  Almost  in  a  night  the  line  of  the  rail 
way  is  strung  with  beads  of  thriving  villages.  All  this  is  in 
violation  of  the  treaty,  which  provided  for  railroad  rights  of 
way,  but  also  provided  that  all  white  men  should  be  excluded 
from  the  reservation. 

If,  without  further  discussion,  we  sum  up  what  seem  to  us 
the  most  important  changes  to  be  made,  we  would  say : 

1.  Avoid  alike  the  extremist  who  cries  aloud  from  the 
frontiers  for  the  extermination  of  the  Indian,  and  the  extrem 
ist  who  lifts  up  his  tearful  voice  in  the  quiet  villages  of  the 

' 


1030 


INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 


east,  and  pleads  that  all  soldiers  be  withdrawn,  and  the  Indians 
left  to  the  care  of  the  pious  missionaries. 

2.  Abolish  the  treaty  system  and  all  existing  treaties,  bury 
ing  with  them  the  infamous  fiction  of  the  national  independence 
of  the  tribes. 

3.  Bring  the  Indians  into  legal  relations  with  the  government, 
under  the  control  and  protection  of  civil  and  criminal  law,  to  be 
dealt  with  by  the  courts. 

4.  As   the   execution  of   law   always   comes  at  last  to  an 
actual  exertion  of  physical  force,  let  the  courts  be  re-enforced  by 
ample  means   and   resources  to    carry  out  the  law.     In  other 
words,  let  them  be  supplemented  by  a  powerful   police,  under 
whose  supervision  the  Indians  will  be  placed,  like   any  other 
citizens.     As  the  worst  quarters  of  a  city  have   the   strongest 
police   force  stationed  in   their  midst,  let  the  same  rule  apply 
with  the  Indians.     Let  this  police   force  consist  of  the  Regular 
Army  of  the  United  States.     If  this  is  a  violation  of  military 
traditions,  let  the  army  be  reorganized. 

5.  Abolish  the  Indian  Bureau,  and  sweep  out  of  existence 
the  whole  class  of  Indian  agents  and  traders.     Let  the  Indians 
have  free  trade  with  the  whole  world,  selling  their  corn  and  furs 
to  the  person  who  will  pay  the  highest  price,  and  buying  their 
goods  of  the  person  from  whom  they  can^be  bought  the  cheapest. 
From   this  freedom  of  trade,  two  exceptions  should  be  made. 
It  should  be  a  criminal  offense  with  heavy  penalties  to  sell,  bar 
ter,  give  away,  have  in  possession,  or  bring  into  the  reservation 
any  fire-arm,  or  intoxicating  drink.     The  only  persons  author 
ized  to  carry  weapons  should  be  the  police. 

6.  The  title  to   the  reservations    should  at  once  be  made 
absolute  and  indefensible  in  the  Indian  tribes,  as  tenants  in  com 
mon,  and  each  Indian  should  have  his  tract  set  off  to  him  in 
severalty  as   soon  as   he    will    consent   to    try    farming.     The 
Indian  is  as  much  entitled  to  the  protection  of  vested  rights 
in  property  as   the  white    man.     While  it  may  be  impossible 
to  keep  the  whites  out  of  the  reservations,  as  it  is,  the  world- 


THE  RED  MAN  OF  TO-DAY.  1031 

wide  law  of  trespass,  enforced  by  the  courts,  will  protect  an 
Indian's  farm  from  intrusion  as  well  as  any  one  else's. 

7.  Every  Indian  who  is  willing  to  farm  should  be  helped  to 
build  a  house,  and  procure  stock  and  farming  implements.     If 
he  misappropriates  these  things  he  should  be  punished  like  any 
other    embezzler.     Meanwhile  he   should  be  honestly  supplied 
with  constantly  decreasing  amounts  of  money  to  buy  food. 

8.  Open  to  the   Indian    community  the   usual  methods  of 
organization,  into  counties,  and  ultimately  into  States,  teaching 
all  the  time  lessons  of  self-government. 

9.  Establish  Government  schools  for  the  instruction  of  Indian 
youth.     Herein  lies  the  hope  of  the  future.     The  young  are  easy 
to  teach;   the  old  are  difficult.     Experiments  show  that  after 
all  this  is  the  true  and  ultimate  solution  for  the  Indian  problem. 
A  few  schools  have    already  been  established.     These  are   of 
three  classes.     First  are  the  day  schools.     These  are  temporary, 
and  are  intended  to  disarm  prejudice.     Even  where  they  have 
been  started,  not  one  in  ten  of  the  children  can  be  admitted  for 
lack  of  room.     The  main  work  of  these   schools  is  to  teach  a 
little  of  the  English  language,  and  the  first  notions  of  cleanliness 
and  the  white  man's  way  of  living.     What  is  accomplished  dur 
ing  school  hours  is  largely  undone  when  the  children  are  out 
of  school,  they  returning  at  once  to  Indian  speech  and  manners. 

Far  more  valuable  is  the  boarding-school  at  the  agency, 
where  the  children  are  taken  to  live  all  the  time,  except  during 
vacation.  This  school  is  watched  closely  by  the  parents  of  the 
children.  Their  dull  and  sluggish  minds  are  stirred  with  sur 
prise.  The  kitchen,  the  sewing-room,  the  bedrooms,  the  school, 
the  dinner  table,  the  farm,  are  each  the  source  of  profound 
astonishment.  These  ideas  carried  back  to  the  lodges  will  in 
time  bear  fruit,  no  doubt,  though  the  process  is  a  slow  one.  In 
the  first  two  years  at  the  boarding-school  the  child  learns  a 
good  deal  of  the  English  language,  and  many  of  the  modes  of 
civilized  life.  This  is  all.  But  the  vacations  prove  deleterious. 
When  the  pupils  return  to  school  in  the  fall  the  teacher  finds 


1032  INDIAN  TRAGEDIES  AND  ROMANCES. 

them  apparently  as  much  savages  as  ever.  They  are  again 
using  the  hideous  Indian  jargon,  again  eating  with  their  fingers, 
and  again  shoot  at  the  chickens  with  bow  and  arrow.  The  crust 
of  barbarism  gathered  during  the  summer  soon  wears  away,  but 
there  have  been  established  three  schools — at  Hampton,  Carlisle, 
and  Forest  Grove — where,  far  away  from  savage  influences,  se 
lected  pupils  are  sent  to  learn  trades.  Thus  by  degrees  the 
leaven  of  a  better  civilization  is  diffused  through  the  dull  mass 
of  savage  life  lying  beyond  the  Mississippi. 

The  rise  of  the  Red  barbarian  from  his  old  level  is  — 
even  under  the  fierce  stimulus  of  contact  with  an  aggressive 
race  —  exceedingly  slow,  sometimes  scarcely  perceptible,  not 
infrequently  reversed.  In  an  age  of  rapid  progress,  when  im 
mediate  results  are  expected  by  impatient  philanthropy,  the 
metamorphosis  of  the  Indian  into  the  citizen,  the  savage  hunter 
into  the  resident  civilian,  is  doubted  by  some,  despaired  of  by 
many.  The  gradual  relaxation  of  the  old  barbaric  habit  and 
the  substitution  of  the  garb  and  manners  of  society  are  pro 
cesses  requiring  generations  for  their  fulfillment.  Meanwhile, 
the  surging  tides  of  advancement  beat  against  the  feeble  bar 
riers  which  a  sense  of  justice  or  expediency  has  interposed 
between  the  Red  Man  and  his  doom.  While  the  slower  move 
ment  of  reason  is  going  on  silently  and  surely,  the  rapid  and 
inexorable  work  of  force  is  pressing  the  remnant  of  our  Abor 
igines  to.  the  borders  of  their  destiny. 

Nor  may  the  author,  in  taking  leave,  not  unregretfully,  of 
the  subject  which  has  occupied  so  much  of  his  attention  and 
interest,  assume  the  office  of  a  prophet,  and  lift  the  veil  from  the 
future  of  this  strange  and  problematical  people.  The  task  pro- 
posed  in  the  beginning  finds  here  an  end,  but  the  theme  still 
lingers  as  if  but  half  completed. 

Farewell  to  thee,  O  rugged  Pioneer ! 

And  e'en  to  thee,  dark  Specter  of  the  West! 
The  one  completes  his  hazardous  career, 

The  other  sinks  on  distant  plains — to  rest. 


£8-5 

A737 


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